Poems and plays : in four volumes

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THE RING AND THE BOOK

BY

ROBERT BROWNING

iFrom tift Sbitlfofg Uebttfeii (ETeit

EDITED WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTES

AND INTRODUCTION

BY
CHARLOTTE PORTER and HELEN A. CLARKE

EDITORS OF "poet-lore"

NEW YORK

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.

PUBLISHERS

COFYRIGHT, 1897,

By T. Y. CROWELL & CO,

NorfDooTi ^ress

J. 8. CuihiiiK ft Co. - Berwick k Smitk
Norwood M MS. U.8.A.

CONTENTS.

PAGB

Biographical Introduction xi

Introductory Essay xxv

Bibliography . . . . c . . , • • • xlv

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

I. The Ring and the Book i

II. Half-Rome 34

III. The Other Half-Rome 70

IV. Tertium Quid 108

V. Count Guido Franceschini .145

VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi 191

VII. PoMPiLiA 239

VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, pauperum procu-
rator 280

IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev.

Cam. Apostol. Advocatus 322

X. The Pope 359

XI. Guido 407

XII. The Book and the Ring 461

Appendix 483

• •

vu

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

"A peep through my window, if folk prefer;

But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine." — ' House.*

WHEN some depredator of the familiar declared that "Only in
Italy is there any romance left," Browning replied, "Ah! well, I
should like to include poor old Camberwell," and " poor old Camber-
well," where Robert Browning was born, May 7, 181 2, offered no meagre
nurture for the fancy of a child gifted with the ardor that greatens and
glorifies the real.

Nature still garlanded this suburban part of London with bowery
spaces breathing peace. The view of the region from Heme Hill over
softly wreathing distances of domestic wood " was, before railroads came,
entirely lovely," Ruskin says. He writes of " the tops of twenty square
miles of politely inhabited groves," of bloom of lilac and laburnum and of
almond-blossoms, intermingling suggestions of the wealth of fruit-trees in
enclosed gardens, and companioning all this with the fiirze, birch, oak,
and bramble of the Norwood hills, and the open fields of Dulwich " ani-
mate with cow and buttercup."

Nature was ready to beckon the young poet to dreams and solitude,
and, too close to need to vie with her, the great city was at hand to
make her power intimately felt. From a height crowned by three large
elms. Browning, as a lad, used to enjoy the picturesqueness of his "poor
old Camberwell." Its heart of romance was centred for him in the
sight of the vast city lying to the westward. His memory singled out
one such visit as peculiarly significant, the first one on which he beheld
teeming London by night, and heard the vague confusion of her collec-
tive voice beneath the silence of the stars.

Within the home into which he was bom, equally well-poised condi-
tions befriended him, fostering the development of his emotional and
intellectual nature. His mother was once described by Carlyle as " the
tme type of a Scottish gentlewoman." Browning himself used to say of

:ii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIOJSr.

ler " with tremulous emotion," according to his friend, Mrs. Orr, " she
iras a divine woman." Her gentle, deeply religious nature evidently
lerived its evangelical tendency from her mother, also Scotch ; while
rom her father, William Wiedemann, ship-owner, a Hamburg German,
ettled in Dundee, who was an accomplished draughtsman and musician,
he seems to have derived the liking and facility for music which was
>ne of the characteristic bents of the poet. To this Scotch-German
lescent on his mother^s side the metaphysical quality of his mind is
ccounlable, concerning which Harriet Martineau is recorded as having
aid to him, " You have no need to study German thought, your mind is
Jerman enough already." The peculiarly tender aflfection his mother
ailed out in him seems to have been at once proof and enhancement of
he mystical, emotional, and impressible side of his disposition; and
hese traits were founded on an organic inheritance from her of " what
le called a nervousness of nature," which his father could not have
lequeathed to him.

Exuberant vitality, insatiable intellectual curiosity and capacity, the
haracteristics of Robert Browning the elder, were the heritage of his
on, but raised in him to a more effective power, through their transmu*
ation, perhaps, as Mrs. Orr suggests, in the more sensitive physique
nd temperament inherited from his mother. Of his father. Browning
nrote that his " Powers, natural and acquired, would easily have made
lim a notable man, had he known what vanity or ambition or the love
f money or social influence meant." He had refused to stay on his
ciother's sugar plantation at St. Kitt's in the West Indies, losing the
3rtune to be achieved there, because of his detestation of slavery, and the
ffice he filled in the Bank of England was never close enough to his
iking to induce him to rise in it so far as his father had risen ; but it
nabled him to indulge his tastes for many books and a few pictures
nd to secure for his son, as that son said shortly before his death, " all
he ease and comfort that a literary man needs to do good work."

One of the poet's own early recollections gives a picture that epito-
tiizes the joint influence of his happy parentage. It depicts the child
' sitting on his father's knees in the library, listening with enthralled
ttention to the tale of Troy, with marvellous illustrations among the
;lowing coals in the fireplace; with, below all, the vaguely heard
ccompaniment — from the neighboring room where Mrs. Browning sat
in her chief happiness, her hour of darkness and solitude and music ' —
►f a wild Gaelic lament."

His father's brain was itself a library, stored with literary antiquities,
»rhich, his son used to say, made him seem to have known Paracelsus,
Taustus, and even Talmudic personages personally, and his heart was

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION'. xiii

so young and buoyant that his lore, instead of isolating him from his
boy and girl, made him their most entertaining companion.

It is not surprising that under such circumstances the ordinary school-
ing was too puerile for young Robertas wide-awake wits. He was so
energetic in mind and body that he was sent to a day-school near by
for peace^ sake at an early age, and sent back again, for peace^ sake, too,

because his proficiency made the mammas complain that Mrs. was

neglecting her other pupils for the sake of bringing on Master Browning.
Home teaching followed. Also home amusement, which included the
keeping of a variety of pets, — owls, monkeys, magpies, hedgehogs, an
eagle, a toad, and two snakes. If any further proof is needed of the
hospitable warmth of his youthfid heart, an entry in his diary at the
age of seven or eight may serve — " married two wives this morning."
This referred, of course, to an imaginary appropriation of two girls he
had just seen in church.

Later he entered the school of the Misses Ready and passed thence
to their brother's school, staying there till he was fourteen, but his con-
tempt for the petty and formal learning which is the best accorded
many children, was marked, and perfectly natural to a boy who delighted
to plunge in the deeper knowledge his father's book-crammed house
opened generously to him.

In the list, given by Mrs. Orr, of books early attractive to him, were
a seventeenth edition of Quarles's ^ Emblems ' ; first editions of ' Robinson
Crusoe,' and Milton ; the original pamphlet, * Killing no Murder' (1559)
which Carlyle borrowed for his * Cromwell ' ; an early edition of the
*• Bees ' by the Bernard Mandeville, with whom he was destined later to
hold a * Parleying ' of his own ; rare old Bibles ; Voltaire ; a wide range
of English poetry ; the Greek and Elizabethan dramatists.

His father's profound love of poetry was essentially classic, and his
marked aptitude in rhyming followed the models of Pope, but Brown-
ing's early poet was Byron, and all his sympathies were warmly roman-
tic. His verse-making, which began before he could write, resulted at
twelve in a volume of short poems, presumably Byronic, which he
gracefully entitled * Incondita.'

He wanted, in vain, to find a publisher for this, and soon afterwards
destroyed it, but not before his mother had shown it to Miss Flower,
and she, to her sister, Sarah Flower, and to Mr. Fox, and the budding
poet had thus gained the attention of three genuine friends.

Shortly after this, the Byronic star which had shed its somewhat
lurid influence over the first ebullitions of his genius, was forever ban-
ished by the appearance of a new star within his field of vision. In-
credible as it may seem to the present generation, he had never heard

xiv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION'.

of Shelley, and if it had not been for a happy chance, an important in«
iluence in the early shaping of his poetic faculties might have been
postponed until too late to furnish its quickening impulse.

One day in passing a book-stall, he happened to see advertised in a
box of second-hand wares a little book, ^Mr. Shelley's Atheistical
Poems:' very scarce. Though the little second-hand volume was
only a miserable pirated edition, by its means such entrancing glimpses
of an unsuspected world were revealed to the boy that he longed to
possess more of Shelley. His mother, accordingly, sallied forth in search
of Shelley's poems, \vhich, after many tribulations, she at length found at
C. and J. OUier's of Vere Street. She brought away not only nearly all
of Shelley in first editions (the * Cenci ' excepted), but three volumes
of Keats, whom she was assured would interest anybody who liked
Shelley. Browning, himself, used to recall how, at the end of this
eventful day, two nightingales, one in the laburnum at the end of his
father's garden, and one in a copper beech in the next garden, sang in
emulation of the poets whose music had laid its subtile spell upon him.
While Keats was duly appreciated, it was Shelley who appealed most
to Browning, and although it was some years before any poetic mani-
festation of Shelley's influence was to work itself out, he, with youthful
ardor, at once adopted the crude attitude taken- by Shelley in his
immature work * Queen Mab,' became a professing atheist, and even
went so far as to practise vegetarianism, of which, however, he was soon
cured because of its unpleasant effect on his eyesight. Of his atheism
Mrs. Orr says, " His mind was not so constituted that such doubt fast-
ened itself upon it ; nor did he ever in after life speak of this period of
negation except as an access of boyish folly, with which his mature self
could have no concern. The return to religious belief did not shake
his faith in his new prophet. It only made him willing to admit that
he had misread him. This period of Browning's life remained, never-
theless, one of rebellion and unrest, to which many circumstances may
have contributed besides the influence of one mind."

With the exception of the poetic awakening just recorded. Brown-
ing's youthful life is uneventful.

By his father's decision his education was continued at home with
instruction in dancing, riding, boxing, fencing ; in French with a tutor
for two years ; and in music with John Relfe for theory, and a Mr. Abel,
pupil of Moscheles, for execution, doubtless supplemented with contin-
uous browsing among the rare books in his father's library. At eighteen
he attended a Greek class at the London University for a term or two
and with thb his formal education ceased. It was while at the uni-
versity that his final choice of poetry as his future profession was made*

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIOli. xv

That he had a bent in other artistic directions as well as that of poetry
is witnessed by his own confession written on the fly-leaf of a first
edition of ^ Pauline * now treasured in the South Kensington Museum.
" < Pauline ' written in piusuance of a foolish plan I forget, or have no
wish to remember; involving the assumption of several distinct
characters : the world was never to guess tiiat such an opera, such a
comedy, such a speech proceeded firom the same notable person."

Some idea had been entertained of the possibility of Robertas quali-
fying himself for the bar, but Mr. Browning was entirely too much in
sympathy with his son^s interests to put any obstacles in the way of his
dioice, and did everything in his power to help him in establishing
himself in his poetiod career. When the decision was made, Brown-
ing^s first step was to read and digest the whole of Johnson^s Dictionary.

During these 5^ears of preparation his consciousness of his own latent
powers, together with youthful immaturity, made him, firom all accounts,
a somewhat obstreperous personage. Mrs. Orr says that his mother
was much distressed at his impatience and aggressiveness. ^^ He set
the judgments of those about him at defiance, and gratuitously pro-
d^med himself everything that he was and some things that he was
not." It is probable, as his sister suggests, that the life of Camberwell,
in spite of the dear home to which he was much attached, and a small
coterie of congenial Mends, including his cousins, the Silverthomes,
and Alfred Domett, did not afford sufficient scope for the expansion of
his eager intelligence.

In 1833 appeared the first flowering of his genius in ' Pauline,' for the
publication of which his aunt, Mrs. Silverthome, furnished the money.
It wa& printed with no name affixed, by Saunders and Otley.

The influence of Shelley breathes Uirough this poem ; not only is it
immanent in the music of the verse, but in its general atmosphere,
while one of its finest climaxes is the apostrophe to Shelley beginning,
" Sun-treader, life and light be thine forever ! " These influences,
however, are conuningled with elements of striking originality indi-
cating, in spite of some crudities of construction, that here was a new
force in the poetic world. Not many recognized it at the time. Among
those who did was his former firiend, Mr. Fox, then editor of the Monthly
Repository, who gave * Pauline ' a sympathetic review in his magazine.
Later, another article praising it was printed in the same magazine.
This and one or two other inadequate notices ended its early literary
history, and thus was unassumingly planted the first seed of one of the
most splendid poetical growths the world has seen. How completely
* Pauline ' was forgotten is shown by the anecdote told of Rossetti's
coming across it in the British Museum twenty years later, and guess-

xvi BIOGRAPHICAL mTRODUCTION.

ing from internal evidence that it was by the author of * Paracelsus.'
Delighted with it, he transcribed it. If he had not, it might have
remained buried there to this day, for Browning was very loath to
acknowledge this early child of his genius.

A journey to Russia at the invitation of the Russian consul-general,
Mr. Benckhausen, with whom he went as nominal secretary, and the
contribution to the Monthly Repository of five short poems fills up the
time until the appearance of * Paracelsus.' Most remarkable among
these short poems were * Porphyria's Lover ' and * Johannes Agricola in
Meditation,' of which Mr. Gosse says, " It is a curious matter for reflec-
tion that two poems so unique in their construction and conception, so
modem, so interesting, so new could be printed without attracting atten-
tion so far as it would appear from any living creature."

Paracelsus was suggested as a subject to Browning bytTount de Ripert
Monclar, a young French Royalist, who, while spending his summers in
England, formed a fiiendship with the poet. The absence of love in
the story seemed to him afterwards a drawback, but Browning, having
read up the literature of Paracelsus at the British Museum, decided to
follow his friend's suggestion and according to promise dedicated the
poem to Count Monclar.

In the days when he was writing ' Paracelsus ' Browning was fond of
drawing inspiration firom midnight rambles in the Dulwich woods, and
he used often to compose in the open air. Here we may perhaps find
an explanation of the fact that in these earlier poems there is a constant
interfusion of nature imagery which, later, when the poet " fared up and
down amid men," gave place to the human emotions upon which his
thoughts became concentred, or appeared only at rare intervals.

Mr. Fox, always ready to praise the young poet whom he had been
the first to recognize, was upon the publication of * Paracelsus'
seconded by John Forster, who wrote an appreciative article about it in
the Examiner,

If * Paracelsus' did not win popularity, it gained the poet many
friends among the literary men of the day. From this period dates the
acquaintanceship of notabilities like Serjeant Talfourd, Home, Leigh
Hunt, Barry Cornwall, Harriet Martineau, Miss Mitford, Monckton
Milnes, Dickens, Wordsworth, Landor, and others. The most impor-
tant in its consequences of his new friendships was that begun with the
celebrated actor William Macready, to whom he was introduced by
Mr. Fox. Macready, delighted with Browning, shortly after asked him
to a New Year's party at his house at Elstree.

Every one who met the poet seemed attracted by his personality.
Macready said he looked more like a youthful poet than any man he

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xvii

had ever seen. Mr. Sharpens description of him from hearsay is more
definite. As a young man he appears to have had a certain ivory deli-
cacy of coloring. -He appeared taller than he was, partly because of
his rare grace of movement and partly from a characteristic high poise
of the head when listening intently to music or conversation. Even
then he had the expressive wave of the hand which in later years was
as full of various meanings as the Ecco of an Italian.

A swift alertness pervaded him noticeably as much in the rapid
change of expression, in the deepening and illuming colors of his
singularly expressive eyes, and in his sensitive mouth as in his grey-
hound-like apprehension, which so often grasped the subject in its
entirety before its propounder himself realized its significance. His
hair — then of a brown so dark as to appear black — was so beautiful
in its heavy, sculpturesque waves as frequently to attract attention.
His voice then had a rare flute-like tone, clear, sweet, and resonant.

The influence of Macready turned the poet's thoughts toward writing
for the stage. A drama, * Narses,' was discussed, but for some reason
abandoned, and the subject of Strafford was decided upon in its place.

The occasion upon which the decision was made gives an attractive
glimpse of the young Browning receiving his first social honor. It was
at a dinner at Talfourd's after the performance of * Ion,' in which Mac-
ready acted. Mr. Sharpe says : —

"To his surprise and gratification, Browning found himself placed
next but one to his host and immediately opposite Macready, who sat be-
tween two gentlemen, one calm as a summer evening, the other with a
tempestuous youth dominating his sixty years, whom the young poet
at once recognized as Wordsworth and Walter Savage Landor. When
Talfourd rose to propose the toast of * The Poets of England,' every one
probably expected that Wordsworth would be named to respond ; but
with a kindly grace, the host, after flattering remarks upon the two
great men then honoring him by sitting at his table, coupled his toast
with the name of the youngest of the poets of England, Mr. Robert
Browning, the author of * Paracelsus.' According to Miss Mitford, he
responded with grace and modesty, looking even younger than he was."

The conversation turning upon the drama, Macready said, " Write a
play, Browning, and keep me from going to America." The reply came,
" Shall it be historical and English ? What do you say to a drama on
Strafford?"

* SordeUo ' had already been begun, but ' Strafford ' and a journey to
Italy were to intervene before it was finished. * Strafford' was per-
formed at Covent Garden, May i, 1837, with Macready as Strafford and
Helen Faudt as Lady Carlisle, was well received, and would probably

xviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS.

have had a long run had it not been for difficulties which arose in the
theatre management.

If Shelley was the paramount influence of his youthful years, from
the time of his Italian journey in 1838, Italy became an influence which
was henceforth to exert its magic over his work. He liked to call Italy
his university. In * Sordello ' he had already chosen an Italian subject,
and his journey was undertaken partly with the idea of gaining personal
experience of the scenes wherein the tragedy of Sordello's soul was
enacted.

It was published in 1840, and except for a notice in the Eclectic Re-
vieWy and the appreciation of a few friends, was ignored. A world not
over sensitive to the beauties of his previous work, could hardly be
expected to welcome enthusiastically a poem so complex in its his-
torical setting and so full of philosophy. Even the keenest intellects
approach this poem with the feeling that they are about to attack a
problem ; for in spite of undoubted power and many beauties, it must
be confessed that the luxuriance of the poet's mental force often unduly
overbalances his sense of artistic proportion. Evidently the world was
frightened. The little breeze, with which Browning's career began,
instead of developing as it normally should into a strong wind of uni-
versal recognition, died out, and for twenty years nothing he could do
seemed to win for him his just deserts, though his very next poem,
* Pippa Passes,' showed him already a consummate master of his forces
both on the artistic side and in tiie special realm which he chose, the
development of the soul.

* Pippa Passes,' * King Victor and King Charles,' and ' The Return of
the Druses ' lay in his desk for some time without a publisher. He
finally arranged with Edward Moxon to bring them out in pamphlet
form, using cheap type, each issue to consist of a sixteen-page form,
printed in double columns. This was the beginning of the now cele-
brated series, * Bells and Pomegranates.' They were issued^ from 1841
to 1846, and included all the dramas and a number of short poems.

The only one of these poems with a story other than literary, is * The
Blot in the 'Scutcheon,' written for Macready, and performed at Drury
Lane, on February 11, 1843. A favorite weapon in the hands of the
Philistines has been the often reiterated statement that the performance
was a failure. A letter from Browning to Mr. Hill, editor of the Daily
News, at the time of the revival of * The Blot ' by Lawrence Barrett
in 1884, drawn out by the same old falsehood, gives the truth in regard
to the matter, and should silence once for all the ubiquitous Philis-

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION'. xix

** Macready received and accepted the play, while he was en^^ed at
the Haymarket, and retained it for Drury Lane, of which I was i^orant
that he was about to become the manager : he accepted it at the instiga-
tion of nobody. . . . When the Drury Lane season began, Macready
informed me that he would'act the play when he had brought out two
others, — *The Patrician's Daughter' and * Plighted Troth.' Having
done so, he wrote to me that the former had been unsuccessful in money-
drawing, and the latter had ' smashed his arrangements altogether' : but
he womd still produce my play. In my ignorance of certain symptoms
better understood by Macready's professional acquaintances — I had no
notion that it was a proper thing, in such a case, to release him from
his promise ; on the contrary, I should have fancied that such a pro-
posal was offensive. Soon after, Macready begged that I would call on
him : he said the play had been read to the actors the day before, *and
laughed at from beginning to end ' ; on my speaking my mind about
this, he explained that the reading had been done by the prompter, a
grotesque person with a red nose and wooden leg, ill at ease in the love
scenes, and that he would himself make amends by reading the play
next morning, — which he did, and very adequately, — but apprised me
that in consequence of the state of his mind, harassed by business and
various troubles, the principal character must be taken by Mr. Phelps ;
and again I failed to understand, . . . that to allow at Macready's the-
atre any other than Macready to play the principal part in a new piece
was suicidal, and really believed I was meeting his exigencies by accept-
ing the substitute. At the rehearsal, Macready announced that Mr.
Phelps was ill, and that he himself would read the part : on the third
rehearsal, Mr. Phelps appeared for the first time . . . while Macready
more than read, rehearsed the part. The next morning Mr. Phelps
waylaid me to say . . . that Macready would play Tresham on the

ground that himself, Phelps, was unable to do so. . . . He added that
e could not expect me to waive such an advantage, — but that if I were
prepared to waive it, * he would take ether, sit up all night, and have the
words in his memory by next day.' I bade him follow me to the green-
room, and hear what I decided upon — which was that as Macready had
given him the part, he should keep it : this was on a Thursday ; he re-
earsed oh Friday and Saturday, — the play being acted the same even-
ing,— of the fifth day after the * reading'' by Macready. Macready at
once wished to reduce the importance of the play . . . tried to leave
out so much of the text, that I baffled him by getting it printed in four
and twenty hours, by Moxon's assistance. He wanted me to csdl it < The
Sister!' — and I have before me . . . the stage-acting copy, with two
lines of his own insertion to avoid the tragical ending — Tresham was
to announce his intention of going into a monastery! all this, to keep
up the belief that Macready, and Macready ajone, could produce a veri-
table 'tragedy' unproduced before. Not a shilling was spent on scen-
ery or dresses. If your critic considers this treatment of the play an
instance of * the failure of powerful and experienced actors ' to insure its
success, — I can only say that my own opinion was shown by at once

XX BtOGRAPHtCAL INTRODUCTtOl^,

breaking off a friendship . . . which had a right to be plainly and
simply told that the play 1 had contributed as a proof of it would, through
a change of circumstances, no longer be to my friend's advantage. . . .
Only recently, . . . when the extent of his pecuniary embarrassments
at that time was made known, could I in a measure understand his mo-
tives— less than ever understand why he so strangely disguised them.
If ^ applause,' means success, the play thus maimed and maltreated waa
successftil enough ; it * made way ' for Macready's own Benefit and the
theatre closed a fortnight after."

Browning's second visit to Italy took place in the autumn of 1844, from
which he returned to meet with the supreme spiritual influence of his
life. * Lady Geraldine's Courtship ' had just been published, and Brown-
ing expressing his enthusiasm for it to Mr. Kenyon, a dear friend of his
and a cousin of Miss Barrett's, the latter immediately suggested that
Browning should write and tell her of his delight in it. The corre-
spondence soon developed into a meeting which was at first refused by
Miss Barrett in a few self-depreciative words, " There is nothing to see
in me, nothing to hear in me, I am a weed fit for the ground and dark-
ness."

Mr. Browning's fate was sealed at the first meeting, we are told, but
Miss Barrett, conscious of the obstacle offered by her ill-health, was not
easily won, and only consented, at last, with the proviso that their
marriage should depend upon improvement in her health.

Though the new joy in her life seemed to give her fresh strength, her
doctor told her, in the summer of 1846, that her only hope of recovery
depended upon her spending the coming winter in Italy. Her father
having absolutely refrised to hear of such a course, she was persuaded
to consent to a private marriage with Mr. Browning, which took place
on September 12, 1846, at St. Pancras Church. A week later they
started for Italy. Mrs. Orr writes : —

" In the late afternoon or evening of September 19, Mrs. Browning,
attended by her maid and her dog, stole away from her father's house.
The family were at dinner, at which meal she was not in the habit of
joining them ; her sisters, Henrietta and Arabel, had been throughout
in the secret of her attachment and in full sympathy with it ; in the
case of the servants she was also sure of friendly connivance. There
was no difficulty in her escape, but that created by the dog, which might
be expected to bark its consciousness of the unusual situation. She
took him into her confidence. She said, * O Flush, if you make a sound,
I am lost.' And Flush understood, as what good dog would not, and
crept after his mistress in silence."

Mr. Barrett never forgave her and never saw her again. The sur-
prise and consternation of Mr. Browning's family was soon transformed

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTlOr^. x«

into love for Mrs. Browning, while Mr. Kenyon, who had not been told
because, as Mrs. Browning said, she did not wish to implicate any one
in the deception she was obliged to practise against her &ther, was
overjoyed at the result of his kindly offices in bringing the two poets
together.

After a journey full of suffering for Mrs. Browning and the tenderest
devotion on the part of Mr. Browning, they halted at Pisa, memorable
as the spot where Mrs. Browning presented her husband with the
matchless ^ Sonnets from the Portuguese.* Mrs. Browning^s health im-
proved greatly in the genial climate. The whole of their married
life, with the exception of occasional summers in England and two
winters in Paris, was spent in Italy, and what that married life was in
its harmonious blending of two unusually congenial souls we have
abundant evidence in the glimpses obtained from Mrs. Browning^s let-
ters, and the recollections of it in the minds of their many friends.

In the siunmer of 1847 they established themselves in Florence in
the Casa Guidi. It became practically their Italian home, varied by
sojourns in Ancona, at the baths of Lucca, Venice, and winters in
Rome in 1854 and 1859.

In Florence, March 9, 1849, ^^^ son was bom, and to Mrs. Brown-
ing^s life, especially, was added one more element of intense happiness.
Mrs. Orr thinks that in Pompilia in *• The Ring and the Book,* is reflected
the maternal joy as Browning saw it revealed in Mrs. Browning^s rela-
tion to her son. A shadow was at the same time cast over Browning^s
life by the death of his mother, who died just as the news was received
of the birth of her grandchild. Mrs. Browning, writing to a friend,
said, ^^My husband has been in the greatest anguish. ... He has
loved his mother as such passionate natures only can love, and I never
saw a man so bowed down in an extremity of sorrow, — never."

The first effect of Browning's marriage seems to have been to put his
muse to sleep. Up to 1850 the only events in his literary career were
the performance of * The Blot ' at Sadler's Wells in 1848, and the issue
of a collected edition of his works in 1849. ^^ ^^S^y ^^ Florence, he
wrote * Christmas Eve ' and * Easter Day,' and in Paris, 1857, the * Essay
on Shelley ' to be prefixed to twenty-five letters of Shelley's, that after-
wards turned out to be spurious.

The fifty poems in * Men and Women ' complete the record of Brown-
ing's work during his wife's life. They appeared in 1855, and reflect
very directly new sources of inspiration which had come into his life
with his marriage.

Though Mr. and Mrs. Browning led a comparatively quiet life, they
gathered around them, wherever they were, a distinguished circle of

xxii BIOGRAPHICAL irrTRODUCTIOPT.

friends. In the early days at Florence, they much enjoyed the sodety
of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. Joseph Milsand and George Sand — the
first a cherished friend, the last simply an acquaintance — connect
themselves with their life in Paris, while in London and Rome all the
bright particular stars of the time circled about them, some of whom
were the Storys, the Hawthomes, the Carlyles, the Kemble sisters, Car-
dinal Manning, Sir Frederick Leighton, Rossetti, Val Princeps, and
Landor.

Mrs. Browning's death at dawn, on the 29th of June, 1 861, cut short
the golden period of these Italian days. Even in his bereavement he
had cause to be poignantly happy. For he had watched beside his
wife on that last night, and she, weak, though suffering little and with-
out presentiment of the end which even to him seemed not so immi-
nent, had given him, as he wrote,—- " what my heart will keep till I see
her again and longer, — the most perfect expression of her love to me
within my whole knowledge of her." He added, " I shall grow still, I
hope, but my root is taken and remains." He left Florence never to
return. His settling in London that winter was a result of his wife's
death, destined to bring him into closer touch with an English public
which was to like him yet. The change was dictated by his care for
his son's education, whose well-being he considered a trust fi*om his wife.

In 1862, he wrote from Biarritz of * Pen's' enjoyment of his holidajrs,
adding, " for me I have got on by having a great read at Euripides
besides attending to my own matters, my new poem that is about to be
and of which the whole is pretty well in my head — the Roman murder
story." But the Roman murder story was long in taking shape as
* The Ring and the Book.' It had been conceived in one of his last
June evenings at Disa Guidi, but the rude break in his life made by
Mrs. Browning's death remains marked in the record of this work's
incubation. During the next years spent in London, with holida)rs in
Brittany, work went steadily on, first for the three-volume collected
edition of 1863 of his works, and then for * Dramatis Personae,' pub-
lished in the year following, before * The Ring and the Book ' came out
at last, in 1868. With the appearance of this, and the six-volume
edition of his works, the poet began to reap the abundant fruits of a
slow but solidly-founded fame.

It was not until 1871, however, that the "great read at Euripides'*
showed its significance in * Balaustion's Adventure ' and four years
later again, in ' Aristophanes' Apology.' rounding out thus his original
criticism of Greek life and literature and especially affecting ' Euripides
the human,' whom his wife had been earliest to deliver from blunder-
ing censure.

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xxili

Whfle in the midst of thb prosperous scheme of work he wrote :
*^ I feel such comfort and delight in doing the best I can with my own
object of life, poetry, — which, I think, I never could have seen the
good of before, — that it shows me I have taken the root I did take
well. I hope to do much more — and that the flower of it will be put
into Her hand somehow.^^

His father had died in Paris in 1866, at the age of eighty-five.
Brother and sister, now each left alone, lived together thenceforth a
life of tranquil uneventfulness, alternating between London and the
Continent — a life rich in pleasant acquaintances and warm friendships
and increasingly full of invitations and honors of all sorts for the poet
Supreme among the friendships was that with Miss Anne Egerton
Smith. Music was the special bond of sympathy between her and
Browning, and while they were both in London no important concert
lacked their appreciation. Miss Browning, her brother, and Miss
Smith spent adso four successive summers together, the fourth at
Sal^ve, near Geneva, where Miss Smithes sudden death was the occasion
of Browning^s poem on immortality, ^ La Saisiaz.^ Among the honors
the poet received were. the organization of the London Browning
Society in 1881, degrees from Oxford and from Cambridge, and nomina-
tions for the Rectorship of Glasgow University and for that of St.
Andrews. The latter was a unanimous nomination from the students,
and as an evidence of the younger generation's esteem of his poetic
influence was more than commonly gratifying to Browning, although
he declined this and all other such overtures.

His activities during the remainder of his days, his social and friendly
life in London and later in Venice, were habitually cheerful and genial.
He sedulously cultivated happiness. This was indeed the consistent
result of the fact to which those who knew him best bear witness, that
he held the great lyric love of his life as sacred, and cherished it as a
religion. Those who know the whole body of his work most inti-
mately will be readiest to corroborate this on subtiler evidence; for
only on the hypothesis of a unique revelation of the significance of
a supreme human love from whose large sureness smaller dramatic
exemplifications of love in life derive their vitality can the varied
overplay of his art and the deep sufficiency of his religious reconcilia-
tion of Power and Love be adequately understood. As he himself once
said, the romance of his life was in his own soul. To this perhaps the
bibliography of his works will ever provide the most accurate outline
map.

After the issue of his Greek pieces, the most noticeable new features
of his remaining work may be summed up as idyllic and lyric. A new

Xxlv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRdDUCTlOlf.

picturesqueness interpenetrated his dramatic pieces, as if he were
dowered with a fresh pleasure in eyesight. This was shown in the
' Dramatic Idyls.* A new purity intensified his lyrical faculty. This
is shown in the lyrics in < Ferishtah^s Fancies * and in < Asolando.*

To his whole achieved work add the brief final record of his content-
ment in his son^s marriage in 1887, his removal to the house he bought
in De Vere Gardens, the gradual .weakening of his robust health in his
last yearS) his painless death in Venice in his son^s Palazzo Rezzonico
on the very diay, December 12, 1889, of the issue of 'Asolando* in
London, his burial in Westminster Abbey in Poets* Comer, Decembex
31, and the stoty of Robert Browning^s earthly life is told.

Charlotte Porter.

Helen A. Clarkb.
May 20, 1896.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

''The Ring and the Book,^* in the estimation of one of its most
appreciative critics, James Thomson, may be classed among those
rare works of literature, philosophy, or art which give the impression
of being too gigantic to have been wrought out by a single man.
With the unerring instinct of the poet for subtle and illuminating
analogies, he compared it in its grandeur and complexity to a great
Gothic cathedral. "For here truly," he says, **we find the soaring
towers and pinnacles, the multitudinous niches with their statues, the
innumerable intricate traceries, the gargoyles wildly grotesque; and,
within, the many colored light through the stained windows, with the
red and purple of blood predominant, the long, pillared, echoing aisles,
the altar with its piteous crucifix and altar-piece of the Last Judgment,
the organ and choir pealing their Miserere and De Profundis and In
Excelsis DeOy the side chapels and confessionals, the ^ntastic wood-
carvings, the tombs with effigies sculptured supine ; and, beneath, yet
another chapel, as of death, and the solemn sepulchral crypts. The
counterparts of all these, I dare affirm, may veritably be found in this
immense and complicate structure, whose foundations are so deep and
whose crests are so lofty. Only as a Gothic cathedral has been termed
a petrified forest, we must image this work as a vivified cathedral, thrill-
ing hot, swift life through all its marble nerves.**

This analogy of the living cathedral illustrates the richness of the
poem as an artistic product. It involves, moreover, a characteristic
difierence or development from the methods of Gothic art. It is by
virtue of the life instinct within it that Gothic art and the art of " The
Ring and the Book ** are akin ; but it is the distinctive trait of the art
of the poem that it parts utterly with the rigidity and stability of
inorganic form. The shifting, flowing trend of all the independent
parts of the poem toward an organic unity of design is the only sort
of fixity to which Browning's art is bound.

The social organism, made up of living, growing personalities, each
intrinsically valuable, but dependent on one another for the working

XXV

xxvl INTRODUCTORY ESSAY,

out of their ultimate significance, is the closest exemplar of the artistic
plan of the poem. Not content with social material, the poet devises
an artistic method that b also social.

His own share as artist in the creation and purport of the poem
falls into place, at the outset, as itself also an element to be taken
account of in the interplay of human personalities behind the action
presented in the bare £acts of the story. What the poef s own touch
upon the facts was, what intent he held toward them, and what his
art^s impress upon them might be worth, are, broadly speaking, the
questions upon which he arouses interest in his first book.

This first book is in the nature of a prologue to the poem, and so
original in its conception as to hafve caused much querulous grumbling
among that class of critics which feels aggrieved when brought &ce to
&ce with something not before met in its experience. Instead of pre-
senting a more or less ornamental generalization of the poet^s purpose,
or a symbolic picture of the underl3dng motive of the poem, or the
even less vital rhetorical flourishes characteristic of many poetical
prologues, it lays before the reader a complete sketch of the plot, —
thus shattering at one blow an element of dramatic art upon which
authors have largely relied as a means of piquing attention by alluring
it onwards in doubting suspense to some much-wished for, half-suspected
denouement, ' Has not the poet substituted for the sacrificed plot-deyel-
opment something quite as alluring? Examining it more closely, this
prologue will be found to possess not only the power of arousing to
the utmost an interested curiosity as to what is to follow, but to
contain intrinsic elements of rare fascination. It is like some finely
constructed overture, which, having a distinct subject of its own, yet
combines with it in a harmonious whole all the varying musical themes
later to be unfolded and enriched in the body of the opera.

The grand central theme of the prologue is the worth of art as a
revealer of a higher truth than lies in the fact alone. This is stated
in the opening Unes by means of the beautiful symbolism of the ring.
The poet then proceeds to unfold about this main thought the pro-
cesses of the artist-mind, from its first seizure upon the bare fact and
recognition of its truth as j)ure gold, through the ever-deepening
phases of inspiration, until the work of poetic art, by the alloy of
fancy, is rounded into as perfect a shape as the exquisite ring wrought
by ." Castellani's imitative craft." As a means for illustrating this
development of his inspiration, the poet chooses naturally enough the
story found in the old yellow book which is to be the subject-matter
of the poem. In showing the growth of his own fancy about this nug-
get of truth, he at the same time reveals the incidents of the story, not

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. aanrfl

primarily for the sake of telling it, but, by the way, as he pictures the
various relations set up between the fact and fancy in this inceptive
process. Thus, at the same time that we are shown into the inner-
most sanctum of the poef s genius, and are permitted to see the crea-
tive forces actually at woric, the story is made known.

Following the development of the poef s inspiration, it is found to
pass from the external to the internal. The first step in the process
is the discovery of the book, and the unalloyed C&cts of the story are
told just as they appear in it. Then, as the poet*s fuicy works, the
charsicters seem to become real and living personalities to him, and
he describes them as he sees them ; but, although there is here revivi-
fication, the poet himself is still the visible medium between the char-
acters in the story and the reader or listener. He must dive deeper
yet; he must not only see them living before his own inner vision,
he must so enter into their natures that he will be able to make them
speak directly to others, himself entirely out of sight, — the artist lost
in his creations.

In this manner, we are gradually led from an interest in the exter-
nalities of the plot to an interest in the personality of the characters
themselves ; an interest which the poet proceeds to whet by giving a
sketch of those who are to reveal themselves in the future, with suf-
ficiently tantalizing glimpses of their various points of view. The
reader, by this time, is in some such state of expectation as one might
be who had seen photographs of a great actor and read eulogiums
upon him, and was about to experience the reality of that which had so
frequently come to him by indirections.

The multiform design sketched in the opening book unfolds its nicely
adjusted parts in the remaining books in harmonious accord with this
richly modulated overture.

Leaving the personal presence of the modem poet of highly developed
consciousness towards the art by which his story shall take on the
hue of life, the sensibilities are first made £uniliar with the atmos-
phere of the deed that was done in Seventeenth-Century Rome, — the
better to reach the quivering heart of its experience, a little later, — by
becoming acquainted, in the three following books, with the three
Romans who part between them all typical public opinion. The
environment of the story shown in this first group of three books is
essentially human and psychical. It is not at all an environment of the
insensate physical sort usually studied by the scientist who investigates
the causes of social phenomena. It consists in the presentation of the
influence of the deed upon the contemporary Roman citizen and of
the reflection of the color of his character upon the story. Through

xxviii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

this living and breathing environment of the old Roman murder case,
as if through the outer rim of some planet^s atmosphere which is that
planet^s specific influence upon the vagues of ether about it, the poem
passes on to penetrate still closer toward the true focus of the action.

In the second group of three books, therefore, the three main actors
in the story successively emerge: Count Guido Franceschini, first,
since he is its prime mover, yet most external and material factor;
Giuseppe Caponsacchi, next, the counterforce awakened to repel his
malevolent activity; and, then, Pompilia. Passivity personified, she
seems, yet is the inmost effluence in the poem of subtle spiritual in-
sight and good will, radiating her light, — as if she were indeed some
central orb of whiteness, — upon Caponsacchi first, because he stands
closest to her in intuitive moral rectitude, and thence diffusing even
through the outer cycle of darkness where Guido writhes the resistless
rays of her illumination.

The order of the poem turns outward again with the third group of
three books. Is this, also, in keeping with the design? Are thesa
learned technicalities of the two lawyers and the elaborate balancing
and ethical probing of the Pope the natural sequence? Yes; for the
racial impulse spoke in Pompilia^s fidelity to her motherhood which
dictated her escape under Caponsacchi^s championship, and the insti-
tution of the fieimily asserted its prerogative in the marital supremacy
on which Guido relied to sanction his slaughter. The issue raised
was a matter of social concern and affecting the moral order. The
poem setting forth in quest of life and truth traces the pathway of these
outgoing beams and encompasses them with their nucleus in its har-
monious system. Professional equity, robed in all her ceremonial
trappings, appears accordingly in the three following books. On the
one side writes the husband^s advocate, with pomp of legal precedent,
yet in laying his personal impress on his plea speaks most vitally.
On the other side, the wife^s advocate upholds the moral dominion of
the Law, yet fastens the interest closest where it most lay for him, upon
his own oratorical ambition and dexterity. Finally, the Church herself
officially assays the value of each act and claim, but, her judgment find-
ing embodiment and instrument in the wise and aged Antonio Pigna-
telli, the test of his personal experience is applied in giving sentence.

The artistic warrant for the second appearance of Guido in the. suc-
ceeding book appears as an inevitable part of this interknit, socially
conceived work of art. There is no word but must be made flesh and
subject to diverse human scrutiny. The sentence of death, therefore,
must have sentence pronounced upon it by the soul most intimate with
the crime. The crowning voice of " The Ring and the Book," accord-

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxix

fng^y, is the voice of him whom society has condemned. In the eleventh
book) at his eleventh hour, Guido combats the sentence and caustically
arraigns civilization and religion, speaking now, fittingly, not as Count
or Franoeschini but without privilege of name and race, simply as the
human being, — Guido. So, at the close of the book, when his doom
smites his soul with sudden terror, his own lips utter the vital admission
needed and supply the only fitting dimax for such a poem.

The concluding book, as Epilogue, companions the opening book as
Prologue. Its main office is to round out the tale. In supplementing
its last occurrences, the original order is symmetrically followed in little.
The Venetian traveller gives the town-talk, much as the three Roman
citizens did, and provides the external report of the execution. The
two lawyers appear again to furnish the social or institutional outcome
and the professional glimpse of the suit for Pompilia's estate ; and the
Augustinian friar stands in place of the Pope to pronounce the moral
summing up in the extract from his sermon. The final words from
the poet^ own mouth turn again, as at the outset, upon the plan and
purport of his art, and the consecration of his work to the poet who
was his wife. " Ring " is linked to " ring," the " book " lying between
in the transposed words of the titles of the first and last books, "The
Ring and the Book" becoming <<The Book and the Ring," and the
significance of the name of the poem shaping it to the end.

One other general trait of the work, which is characteristic of its
evolutionary and social method, is especially ministered unto in the
twelfth book. That trait is its historic quality. With Guidons cry in
the ears, with the dimax of the poem reached, this last book opens.
Is the result that of antidimax or redundancy ? " Here were the end,"
says the poet, " had anything an end." As nothing has an end, there
is room here for one suggestion more to that effect, and relevantly, too.
An image of the fiery event resuscitated in the poem symbolizes this
perpetual existency. The vivid outburst of Guidons deed is seen at its
height, and then it is shown paling and dying gradually away in the.
vastness of the ages. The addition of the twelfth book is justified by
this culminating stroke of art, revealing the central event of the poem
as but an inddent in the larger life of historic civilization.

This historic quality is, of course, not such as usually marks the work
of the professional historian. It depends little upon exact results or
patient verification of evidence. In the poem dispassionateness as well
as partisanship is distrusted, and stress is put on genuineness of char-
acter as the criterion of merely relative truth. And yet a poem which
is made to bear witness that human testimony is false and " feme and
estimation words and wind," since it shows to the life how essentia]

XXX INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

to each man is his own character and peculiar point of view, reveals
more convincingly than any but the most modern histories the interde-
pendence and necessary coherence of all points of view ; the continuous
unity of the social life thence each human act emerges and whence it
sinks, forever perpetuating its influence through oblivion ; and the end-
less beauty of personal aspiration toward all that can be called '^ truth.^

As a whole it appears, then, that, unlike most poetic plots, with
definitely isolated beginnings, middles, and ends, this plot seems to be
composed of continuous intersecting unfoldings, as if in concentric
orbits round a centre related to all these spheres of psychical action and
influence, and having outside the whole an imaginative envelope of
unexplored, indiefinite space.

Turning now — afler this general survey of the structural design of
the poem, first as projected by the poet in his prologue and then as
wrought out by him in the sequence — to an examination of the char-
acters created, it may be found that in these, too, the secret of the art
with which they are portrayed consists not merely in their separate
vitality but in their lifelike interrelations.

The truth to life of the first three characters is apparently meant to
be more typical than personal. Yet it is easy to see the individual
within the class in either Half-Rome, The Other Half-Rome, or Ter-
tium Quid ; and their double quality of generalized and individualized
life is peculiarly well adapted to give the impression of a larger social
atmosphere encompassing the central event, and to lead on to the more
fully individualized characters of the central actors in whose persons
the intensity of interest is condensed.

The typical quality of the three Roman citizens is not abstract. It
does not mar their humanity. Half-Rome buttonholes the cousin of
the jackanapes who is too civil to his wife, and the reader feels the
touch, too, and grows absorbed in the turn the gossip gives the story.
He gathers from the whole account, however, not merely the estimate
of the characters which the speaker conceives, but, also, from that, a
cumulative estimate of the speaker^s own character, and, thence, a still
further estimate of the doubtful value of this man's evidence.

Listen next to The Other Half-Rome's version of the story ; and with
whatever eagerness, acquired by the habit of following the plot of inci-
dent, one may pounce upon the slight divergences in the facts between
this and the preceding version, the interest in the plot of incident soon
gives place to interest in the plot of character. The estimate of the
characters peculiar to The Other Half-Rome's point of view first absorbs
attention ; then it is perceived to throw light on his own character, and
finally suspicion £Uls upon the value of his evidence.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxxi

Where shall the real truth be found then? is the question that now
dominates the reader^s mood. At this stage he is ready to rush greedily
upon Tertium Quid^s account. His hopes are cunningly fostered by
the pretence of this third speaker that now the '^ authoritative word^^ of
« persons qualified to pronounce ^* will at last prevail above '^ this rab-
ble Vbrabble ^^ of ^ reasonless unreasoning Rome.^^ But no ; he is only
tantalized more acutely by the sfjiritless equipoise of Tertium Quid.
Thrown back now upon a trust in his own wits as the only guide, the
reader passes the poet^s probation toward wisdom, and is ripe to learn
what the second group of characters — the three actors in the tragedy —
shall successively impart, and with more and more intimacy of each
other, themselves, and the truth.

Once having felt this threefold progressive illumination of the story,
there is no end to the fciscination of detailed comparison. Guidons,
Caponsacchi^s, and Pompilia^s characters, as they appear. in each man^s
eyes and in their own, are to be traced, contrasted, the investigation
narrowed to a test by the character of each speaker as to what his
special evidence on each point is worth, and crowned with a divination
of how the whole coheres.

All this complexity of interest results primarily from a perception of
the characters of Half-Rome, The Other Half-Rome, and Tertium Quid.
Half-Rome is seen to be so warped by one idea that any subject he
considered would wear the hated color. He cannot see true any more
than Othello could, and all his mental aspirations are subject to the
clumsy obtuseness and despotic cruelty of a man suspicious of the
woman nature, because it is foreign to his own. It is not so important,
however, that certain external circumstances be gathered about him, —
namely, that he is a jealous husband who is making the telling of this
story to the cousin of the '^ jackanapes ^^ an excilse to cause the fellow
to fear him, — as it is that the character of the man enslaved to his
prejudices be seen.

The Other Half-Rome is swifter witted and more humane. He is
too subtle and strategic himself not to revel in the finer powers of in^
tuition and emotion. His nature has no distrust of the woman nature,
but rather an instinctive attraction toward it. He is Violante's best
defender. He excuses her first &lsity, but seeing that she clears her
conscience at Pompilia^s expense, blames her for confessing the lie.
Some acute inkling of the relativity of truth seems to move him to put
loyalty to an essential truth beyond adherence to the external truth of
feet Criticism is his foible, however, and everybody gets a taste of
his dissecting blade. Even Pompilia, his adoration, the saint with the
allurement of a beautiful girl, does not escape disparagement for her

rxxii INTRODUCTORY ESSAW

passivity. The ^' helpless, simple-sweety or silly-sooth,^^ he says, ^ how
can she render service to the truth? *^ (^5) The poor opinion he ex-
presses of Pompilia*s intellect and will is misleading, but natural to the
shrewd man who underrates the high capacity of brain and nerve
necessarily accompanying experienced goodness. Otherwise, he has
so sympathetically assimilated Pompilia^s version of the story that his
account of her penetrates closer to the heart of the matter than that of
any other of the outer circles of characters. His vivisection of Guido
is particularly keen and profitable to observe; and the measure of
understanding he shows for Caponsacchi is not a little remarkable in
view of his latent rivalry with one whom he regards as an ordinary lover.

Again, with this speaker, the mere circumstance that he is a bachelor
who is romantically partial to pretty women and ^' the side the others
are down on,^* is not in itself so important to observe as that with all
his cleverness he is not a master of his bias.

Tertium Quid is obviously the man of pretence to social prominence
and distinguished intellect. He is witty, graphic, and sophisticated ;
a specialist in worldliness, which qualifies him to judge as an expert in
the case ; but his deft reconstruction of its twists and turns feels its way,
subserviently, after all, toward that neutral somewhat which will be ac-
cepted as the " safe " view of the conservative class. The upshot of
his specialistic investigation, in spite of the dexterity of its incidental
episodes, is disappointing in making no point but the minor one against
torture. Its main conclusion b equivocal because it has to steer its
course between a disdain of ^^ plebs, the commonalty ^^ and a supine
regard for " quality " not compatible with the unity of humanity. The
actual conclusion to be drawn is that horror of the ^' mob '^ is the main
dependence to prove superiority over it. At the impotent close of the
deft harangue, when "Excellency" and " Highness" show themselves
human enough to be bored by much talk to no purpose, they fare no
better than " plebs " in Tertium Quid's eyes, and he styles them, be-
tween his teeth, " the two idiots here." The reader is led to cap his
conclusfon with another, remembering <he gage offered at the start —

"iflM—
Favored with such an audience, understand! —
To set things right, why, class me with the mob
As understander of the mind of man ! "

Here again, then, with Tertium Quid, as with the two other t)rpical
Roman citizens, it is important not merely to perceive the character but
judge the pretensions, and, balancing the two, see how much the evi-
dence ts worth.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxxiU

Flattering clouds of suffering and manly self-confidence half obscure
Guidons genuine self upon his first appearance. A flood of daylight
pours upon him on his second. To know the secret of his character,
and lay the true stress upon its relation to the story, appeal must be
made here, from the Count presumed innocent to Guido found guilty.
Holding in abeyance, then, the first plea of Count Guido Franceschini,
it may be compared better with his final utterances later, when nothing
intervenes between the man and death.

A peculiav interest attaches to Caponsacchi, because he alone of all
the personages that revolve about the central tragedy suffers the tort-
ures of a severe moral struggle. His soul is first awakened by Pom-
pilia, whose sudden influence works a revolution in his character, and
sows the seeds of a development only curtailed by his inevitable priestly
bias. All the onlookers ^gree in describing him as a mixture of priest
and courtly gallant, — vowed to the Church, yet a favorite in the social
world.

Under these circumstances it is hardly to be wondered at that no
one, not even sympathetic Other Half-Rome, can believe in his entire
innocence and self-disinterestedness in rendering aid to Pompilia.
Sympathy for the outraged honor of Guido blinds Half-Rome to every
other consideration ; but the rest of the world is more ready to condone
the sin of the priest than to believe him guiltless. This widespread
feeling is reflected in the paltering decision of the court, — not to exon-
erate him, but to deal him a light punishment. What could world or
law-court know of the powerful forces latent within the character of the
worldling priest, or of the influence for good of a personality so intui-
tively strong as that of the youtnful Pompilia! Only when Caponsacchi
comes to tell his own story is the real truth of the matter discoverable.
The vision of Pompilia with her '< beautiful sad strange smile ^^ was his
first true revelation ; her face became for him " God^s own smile,'^ and
he realized there were greater possibilities in life and in religion than he
had ever dreamed of. Henceforth the frivolous side of his life became
utterly distasteful to him, and the perception of his duties as a priest
deepened. Conscious that his awakening was due to his sudden recog-
nition in Pompilia of a purity of soul he had never before experienced,
his trust in her was so complete that he at once saw through the dia-
bolical plan of Guido to entrap Pompilia and himself. So strong a
nature as his, once aroused to an understanding of the seriousness of
duty, would be apt to verge toward fuiatidsm. He would confuse the
duty to his earth-made vows with a larger divine duty, especially in an
age when religious sentiment placed more emphasis upon the perform-
ance of the letter of the vow than upon keeping the spirit of it intact

xxxiv INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

Only so can his hesitancy, when Pompilia appealed to him for aid, be
explained. His struggle was threefold, and wavered between a human
desire to help Pompilia, a desire to live up to the new ideal of duty
bom within him by Pompilia herself, and a desire truly to sacrifice him-
self. This last, he concludes, can best be accomplished by withstanding
the great wish of his heart to help Pompilia, — a conclusion which, com-
bined with his desire to be true to his vows, causes him to decide to
leave her in God^s hands. Another visit to Pompilia makes him under-
stand that he himself must be God^s instrument. He accepts the charge
somewhat in the spirit of Prometheus, who '' freely sinned.^^ His only
sin, however, was against the external laws of the Church. He cherished
faithfully the spirit of his vows, not only because he must be true to his
new-bom ideals, but because such action constituted the highest homage
^tHHild offer Pompilia. He dares hardly acknowledge even to himself
his love for her, largely because he cannot throw off entirely the priestly
attitude which takes for granted an antagonism between an earthly love
and the love of the Church. Though he pictures the possibilities of
a life outside the Church, and made sacred by her presence, he does
not let himself recognize that in such love as existed between them
there is a divine element transcending all earthly vows, and destined
to have its fulfilment in eternity. Earth might have had such bliss in
store for him : it is lost forever, and duty demands that he shall not
even regret the loss.

*' So I from such communion pass content.^^

But his heart asserts itself, and human anguish forces from him the cry, —

'^ O great, just, good God! Miserable me! ^^

He is indeed a Prometheus, but a Prometheus still in chains.

His speech is a masterpiece of dramatic writing, reflecting to the
life his complex feelings. Scorn for the lawyers, whom he scores merci-
lessly for their miserable failure in the guardianship of Pompilia, when
he who might have been of use to her was facetiously adjudged a
"merry" punishment for what they persisted in regarding a youthful
escapade ; loathing of Guido ; anguish at the news of Pompilia^s death
intensifying his love for her ; but against any expression of wAich h<
strives fiercely, lest it might detract from the perfect sum of her purity,
— and underneath all these rending human passions, the struggle ojf
the priest to maintain his priesthood unsullied.

There was a law in force in the ancient Hindu drama, that no actor
could come upon the stage before some reference had been made to
him by actors already on the stage. The effectiveness of such a method

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

Browning has certainly proved in ''The Ring and the Book.^ The
reader is in a fever-heat of expectation when Pompilia is finally intro-
duced in her own person ; and that the poet has succeeded in making her
not only fulfil expectation, but surprise us with her transcendent loveli-
ness, is alone proof of his masterly genius. She has appeared, through
the medium of the speakers, in the preceding monologues in the like-
ness, at one extreme^f a light, frivolous, even depraved girl ; at the
other, in that of a martyred saint, according as individual bias misun-
derstands and hates her, or comprehends and reverentially loves her.
Guidons brutal attitude toward her as his wife is too evident for his
account of her to gain any credence whatever ; yet, in spite of himself
there are references to her in his speech which give glimpses of her
true character, just as if her nature were so powerfiil a centre of truth
that it must perforce shine through the foulest aspersions of her.
Even Half-Rome^s opinion of her does not appear to be based upon an
overwhelming conviction of her guilt, but rather upon the determina-
tion to uphold the rights of the husband at any cost. Did Half-Rome
forget himself for the moment, when he presents so finely the picture
of Pompilia trapped at Castelnuovo?

''Her defence? This. She woke, saw, sprang upright
r the midst, and stood as terrible as truth.^

Such passages have been considered a lapse from Half-Rome into
Browning. But if Half-Rome be conceived to base his arguments on
prejudice, rather than conviction, it will be easy to imagine him carried
away, for the moment, by the splendid pluck of Pompilia, and falling
into this sudden show of S3rmpathy. This is made all the more plausi-
ble by the way he brings himself up with a round turn, —

" But facts are facts, and flinch not ; stubborn things.
And the question, how comes my purse
r the poke of you ? admits of no reply."

If glimpses are caught, from time to time, of Pompilia as she really
is, even from her enemies, it is equally true that her friends do not
give an entire view of her character. We saw how The Other Half-
Rome regarded her, so " silly-sooth " that she could hardly be expected
to shed any light on the bare justice of the situation. It may be ques-
tioned whether Caponsacchi recognized to the full the greatness of her
character, although he had felt the influence of her personality, — one
that convinced, not by argument, but by her presence, as Walt
Whitman would say. He certainly did not understand, in their
essence, the principles that guided her, or he would not have suffered

xxxvl INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

her to languish a day longer than she need for help, while he settled
upon the action best for his own soul.

There is no moral struggle in Pompilia^s short life, such as that in
Caponsacchi^s. Both were alike in the fact that up to a certain point
in their lives their full consciousness was unawaJcened: hers slept,
through innocence and ignorance ; his, in spite of knowledge, through
lack of aspiration. She was rudely awakened by suffering ; he by the
sudden revelation of a possible ideal. Therefore, while for him, con-
scious of his past failures, a struggle begins ; for her, conscious of no
failure in her duty, which she had always followed according to her
light, there simply continues duty according to the new light. Neither
archbishop nor friendly ^^ smiles and shakes of head '' could weaken her
conviction that, being estranged in soul from her husband, her atti-
tude toward him was inevitable. No qualms of conscience trouble her
as to her inalienable right to fly from him. That she submitted as
long as she did, was only because no one could be found to aid her.
And how quick and certain her defence of Caponsacchi, threatened by
Guido, when he overtakes them at the Inn! As she thinks over it
calmly afterwards, she makes no apology, but justifies her action as the
voice of God.

" If I sinned so, — never obey voice more
O' the Just and Terrible, who bids us ^ Bear! '
Not — * Stand by ; bear to see my angels bear! ' "

The gossip over her flight with Caponsacchi does not trouble her as
it does him. He saved her in her great need ; the supposition that their
motives for flight had any taint of impurity in them is too puerile to
be given a thought, yet with the same sublime certainty of the right,
characteristic of her, she acknowledges, at the end, her love for Capon-
sacchi, and looks for its fulfilment in the future when marriage shall be
an interpenetration of soiils that know themselves into one. Having
attained so great a good, she can wish none of the evil she has suffered
undone. She goes a step farther. Not only does she accept her own
suffering for the sake of the final supreme good to herself but she feels
assured that good will fall at last to those who worked the evil.

Of all the characters portrayed by Browning in this poem, Pompilia
is the only one, not even excepting the good old Pope, who has abso-
lutely clear vision. She stands as the embodiment of that higher law
which works behind all narrow-minded conceptions of duty ; she grasps
the relations of evil to good in the world, and her large charity makes
room for even her arch-enemy in the healing shadow of God. Withal
she is so human and lovable. Though her philosoDhy is profound, it

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxxvii

breaks so spontaneously and simply from her lips that it does not
give the impression of being the result of intellectual pondering, but is
like the natural outflow of a mind that had reached a higher plane
of consciousness than those about her.

The sole point in which her feeUng appears slightly to darken her
perception is with regard to Caponsacchi, of whose moral struggle she
does not seem to be aware, for she attributes to him the same intuitive
vision possessed by herself. His own account and hers of his reply to
her when she '^ called him to her and he came '^ is a striking example
of this. He says, ^' It shall be when it can be.^^ She makes him say
simply, '' I am yours." It is quite possible, however, that she knew his
inmost soul better than he did himself, and caught its meaning rather
than his words. Pompilia^s conception of him is perhaps the true
Caponsacchi, while in his account of himself we get Caponsacchi en-
tangled in a mesh woven of inherited convention. May we not vent-
ure to imagine that Pompilia^s dying message to him at last set him
free, and that, henceforth, he would acknowledge and accept a present
and future for their two souls of love infinitely exalted, nor any longer
look back upon an unrealized earthly love ?

After the intense concentration of emotion in these two monologues,
the speeches of the two lawyers furnish a relief that may be compared
to the effect of a Shakespearian scene in which the '< base mechanicals "
figure. De Archangelis and Bottinius are not much more profound in
their reasoning than Bottom the weaver, but their poverty in wisdom is
bolstered up by an immense deal more of learning and an intellectual cun-
ning in the use of it which produces at least a '^ swashing outside." To
them a murder case is just so much grist for the legal mill. The desire to
find the truth and have justice rendered ft no part of their programme.
The ambition of each is to gain his case and outwit his opponent by
building up a defence on some legal quibble. There is not a more
brilliant example of searching sarcasm in literature than in the portrayal
of this brace of lawyers, hitting not only at these easily recognizable
types, but at the institution of law itself as at present constituted.

The pettifogging soul of De Archangelis warms to the task of prov-
ing a guilty man justified in his guilt. He is quite invincible when
marshalling his forces of precedent, provided it first be admitted that
citations of precedent constitute argument ; but, if driven to rely on his
own reasoning powers for a point, he flounders pitifidly. Yet we can-
not altogether despise this representative of the law, because of his
absorbing interest in his little son, whom he must have loved devotedly
if there is any truth in the quaint little German sa3dng, '< Much-loved
children have many names." One suspects that some of his inanities

xxxviii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

in argument may have been due to his abstraction over the coming
birthday feast.

The egotism of De Archangelis pales before that of Bottinius pictur-
ing himself — the centre of admiring judges and audience, — while he
paints with artist-hand a true picture of the sainted Pompilia. His
method of presenting the truth is to imagine Pompilia and Caponsacchi
guilty of lower depths of moral depravity than even Guido could have
accused them of; and then to try to justify his interpretation of their
actions by defending Pompilia on the ground that she committed small
sins to save Guido from a greater sin ; and Caponsacchi on the ground
that he followed out natural tendencies. Bottinius has the instincts of
a criminal lawyer, and when given a case where the evidence proves too
easily the innocence of his client, his ingenuity must find vent in argu-
ing white, black, and then whitewashing the blackness he has himself
created. At the end he has evidently convinced himself, if no one else,
that all the calumnies he was only going to imagine true are indeed
true, and that he has succeeded in glossing them over so as to make
them appear virtues. Then, with an effrontery that reveals the depths
of his moral obliquity, he declares that he has, through painting Pom-
pilia^s virtue, proved Guidons crime. Pompilia's confession almost up-
sets his devious methods of proving her purity ; but he is equal to the
occasion and declares it a lie which adds one more grace to her char-
acter,— the grace of perjuring herself to save Guide's soul.

The character of the '^ good old Pope " is somewhat difficult to ana-
lyze, since he seems to be a composite of two historical popes, Innocent
XI. and Innocent XII., combined with a special individuality, created
for him by Browning, made up of mental traits quite consistent with the
time, and others which belong to the nineteenth century, if not peculiarly
to Browning himself.

Taking him as we find him, sprung fiilly endowed from the brain of
the poet, he is pre-eminently a man actuated by the most sincere desire
to find the truth and deal out justice, and in his earnest dignity furnishes
a refreshing contrast to the shallow lawyers.

He is, however, human, and feels the necessity of assuring himself
that the safety of his own soul will not be jeopardized by his decision
to condemn to death Guido and his associates. He states a profound
truth when he decides that God will look upon the sincerity of his inten-
tion, even should he in his human ignorance make a mistake.

There are no finer passages in the poem than those in which he ren-
ders his judgments upon the various actors in the tragedy. With ter-
rible keenness of vision he dissects Guido's motives, — his avarice, his
deceit out of which all his crimes grew. Yet even here the fallibility

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xxxix

of the human mind asserts itself. Though he shows the most exquisite
appreciatio,n of Pompilia, and recognizes her intuitive perception of the
higher law, he does not quite realize whither this intuitive faculty car-
ried her. He commends her for her submission to her husband until
the higher duty of motherhood bade her rebel, evidently unconscious
that she never acknowledged any obedience to Guido, but simply sub-
mitted because circumstances forced her to do so. Pompilia, herself, is
careful to make this plain when she says, —

'^ Now understand here, by no means mistake!
Long ago had I tried to leave that house.^'

He passes over also her confession of love for Caponsacchi, which it
seems hardly probable he would approve if he had noticed it, since he
considered one of Caponsacchi^s chief glories the withstanding of the
temptation to love Pompilia. He also admires Caponsacchi for his
^Championship of God, at first blush," when he sprang to rescue Pom-
pilia. He is quite oblivious of the fact that Caponsacchi took some
time to decide whether he would not be obeying the voice of God to
more purpose if he did not rescue the " martyr-maiden." The enthusi-
asm of the Pope for these two really blinds him a little to the realities
of the case, and results in his admidng them both, especially for some-
thing they did not do. The inconsistencies which may arise from a
recognition of truth in conflict with obedience to convention is shown
when the Pope, in spite of his admiration for Caponsacchi, would have
him punished because he broke the laws of the Church. These are the
touches which place the Pope along with the other characters of the
book as a really dramatic portraiture, while his grief at the lust for gold
he everywhere discovers suits well enough with the historical accounts
of Innocent XH., whose energies were spent in trying to reform abuses
growing out of the selfish scramble for wealth rife at that time. But
when the Pope philosophizes upon the basis of his £cdth, upon evil and
doubt, he takes a long leap forward. Going beyond that eighteenth cen-
tury, which the poet makes him look forward to as an age of revivify-
ing doubt destined to give birth to a new faith, he reveals in his own
convictions what that new faith will become in the nineteenth cen-
tury, namely, a belief in a personal revelation of divine love to every
individual.

There is a curious difference between Guidons first monologue and
his second one. His character must necessarily appear in both. Why
is it truer in the last? In both he assumes various plausible shapes,
and lays claim to heroism, but reveals the skulking soul. When the
two messengers enter, as earlier when he addressed his judges, his first

xl mTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

impulse is to ingratiate himself by a flattery of rank that will serve to
insinuate his own claim to social privilege. After he has heard why
they come to him and what message they bring him from the Pope,
then it is as if some outer bodily integument which he had himself sup-
posed, until now, to be a veritable part of him, slipped away, and left
his inner nature intact and able to betray itself more clearly. Guidons
truth to himself flares out, now that life must leave him, with a sudden
fierce perception of the life still within him, that has made him what he
was and now makes him strong to answer the Pope's sentence — " * Be
thou not!' by* Thus I am!'" The best possible explanation of the
criminal is — In my crime spoke my nature. His best possible justifi-
cation for reading his own nature into all other men's natures is the
warrant they themselves give him to do so. Half-Rome has substan-
tially the same theory of society and marriage as that on which Guido
based hLs life and justified his slaughter. So has Bottinius and Ter-
tium Quid. Guido, in his first smooth, deferential monologue, rested his
confidence in his safety on this plea : I am a loyal servant of Church
and Law, a pillar of society! "Absolve thou me, law's mere execu-
tant!" Through me bring in force again the wholesome household
rule —

"Husbands once more GcJd's representative.
Wives like the typical Spouse once more, and Priests
No longer men of Belial."

In his last speech, this pretence of serving " public weal, which hangs
to the law, which holds by the Church," having been knocked from
under him by the stroke of his death-sentence, he falls back merely on
his own nature. The stealthy cunning lashes out into unbridled feroc-
ity. The tiger-cat that " whined before, and pried and tried and trod
so gingerly " has done with useless wariness and openly attacks first
the Church he served, and then the Civilization and Society for which
he finds he risked his head. Capable for an instant, at least, of conceiv-
ing " a careless courage as to consequences," and of exercising sincerely
a curiosity that bids him turn over and over again the theories he acted
on to see the true reason for his failure, the real Guido arouses a new
interest. The character, supposed to be merely mean and tricky, shows
an inherent self inside the mask. An element of grandeur appears in
the hard consistency and implacable heart with which this self-styled
victim of Society arraigns the judgment he falls beneath. If his help-
lessness stir a thrill of pathos finally, the art of the poet will have fin-
ished its vital reconstruction and redeemed the villain in Guido to
human brotherliness.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY xli

Nobles and men of power make common cause, against the unconsid-
ered mass of men, to gain unharmed their pleasure. This is one of
Guide's first principles. "Manly men" who own a wife hold their
right " with tooth and nail." This is another of Guido's first princi-
ples. They suffice to show him his innocence. Right as an abstract
conception or a moral test has not occurred to him. A right as a privi-
lege exercised by whosoever has title, wealth, or strength, he under*
stands and illustrates in the story of Felice. There were Popes then,
too, he maintains; not such as this one. "Why do things change?
Wherefore is Rome un-Romed?" Guido accuses Society of moral
progress, without knowing what moral progress means, and condemns
it, like any other grumbler who suffers from a change, for the newness
of its virtue. He considers it a pretence, of course, — a fall from grace
in Gospel and in Law, — and blames himself merely for the blunder of
calculating that their action would be consistent.

To this nature, arrogating his time-honored right to rule by force or
guile those he counts his creatures, Pompilia speaks for the new indi-
vidual right the one effective word. The leaven of her " self-posses*
sion to the uttermost " is shown at its work in Guido's account of her
as the stumbling-block in his path. Not Caponsacchi himself has
gained so adequate a conception as Guido has of Pompilia's forceless
strength.

Guido's ugly picture of his relations toward his son supplies the right
contrast to make the beauty of Pompilia's motherliness more convinc-
ing. His notion of ^therhood falls before her influence as fell his
notions of citizenship and husbandhood. The contrast is not merely
pointed between recreant fatherhood and noble motherliness : it sym-
bolizes the good and evil social influences this wife and husband repre-
sent. Of this Guido is unaware, but he lays his defeat to Pompilia;
and through her, by means of the push of her influence upon him, on
Caponsacchi, on the Pope, and on the Pope's sentence, his whole con-
ception of life begins at last to quake.

At the climax of the poem, through the revelation of Guido's nature,
the two forces stand in open opposition. If something come now to
check Guido's voluble rhetoric, shrivel through the human testimony
and disclose the human fact, if the Pope's sentence — Pompilia's instru-
ment— complete the moral battle-shock between the two, and hurl
Guido on from the perception of blunder to a feeling of need, one cry
of trust in the strength of human goodness will be enough to proclaim
its triumph over human evil. It comes, —

"God, . . .
Pompilia, will you let them murder me?"

xlii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

In characterizing Guido thus, the poet has brought the entire plot o/
tragic incident, interwoven character, and dramatically expressed moral
motive to a focus.

The style of The Ring and the Book^^ is singularly clear, in spite
of the colloquialisms, archaisms, historical and classical allusions, and
Latin phrases that abound. If they were judged as belonging to the
whole poem, and that were considered as if it were a single subjective
utterance, they might make it seem uncouth. But if they be referred to
their appropriate places in the course of the talk of the various characters,
whose monologues constitute the story, they will readily reveal their fit-
ness in a work that blends the traits of poem, drama, and novel. Collo-
quialisms, for instance, in the speech of such worldly townsmen as are
here presented, obviously belong to any vital transcription of everyday
talk. It may be a question how far a modern poet is justified in counting
upon the use of obsolete and archaic English words to breathe an Italian
seventeenth-century aroma. However that may be, it is evidently an
intention that accounts for them. Such historical allusions as appear in
the frequent mention of Molinism seem intended, also, to add their minute
touch to the efiect of a historical environment about this particular event
in the life of Rome, which Browning sought to give, as already indicated,
by placing an outer circle of characters about his central group. The
classical allusions mainly appear in the monologues of speakers with
some pretence to the pagan scholarship Italy had loved from the days
of the Renaissance. It is amusing to see Half-Rome ape this gentle-
manly habit and leave a blank in his speech, through an attempt to deco-
rate it with still another pagan god whose name &ils him. Bottinius
and Guido are more apt. The recurrence of favorite allusions perhaps
marks a literary custom of the time, which Browning^s reading had
noted. The pomp of Latin to which their profession obliges the law-
yers is so whimsical, as well as fitting, that finding fault with it is grace-
less criticism, the more so, since the poet has made his base professionals
give a humorous free-hand English version which, while it doubly de-
lights the Latinist, does not leave the English reader in the dark.

Lyric outbursts of exquisite beauty occur only where the mood befits
them, when the speaker is noble in character and stirred to a high devo-
tion. The dedicatory lines to " Lyric Love," passages put in Caponsac-
chi^s mouth, and much of Pompilia^s utterance, move to this smoother
music. Again, in Guidons second monologue, there is a savage directness
almost lurid with dramatic force, or there is an impulsive throbbing
delicacy in Caponsacchi^s outflow, or on the Pope^s lips a brooding
sereneness. Everywhere the fluent diversity is subject to the beck of
the dramatic wand.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xlii

The work as a whole has been accused of inordinate length. Closer
study of it may show that every word is needed for the proper elabora-
tion of the characters. It has been claimed, too, that some one or
other of the characters might be spared, but even after those to spare
had been agreed upon, a fuller consideration might reveal that all, with-
out exception, fall into the places intended for them, and that on their
interlacing support grows the design which distinguishes the poem.

Charlotte Porter.
Helen A. Clarke.
May II, 1897.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

The Ring and the Book. Vol. I., Nov. 1868; Vol. II., Dec. 1868;
Vol. III., Jan. 1869; Vol. IV., Feb. 1869. Three books m each
volume. London : Smith & Elder. 1868-69.

Criticism.

Buchanan, Robert. Master Spirits, chap, ix., ^'Browning^s Master-
piece," pp. 89-109. London : Henry S. King & Co. 1873. (See
"Athenaeum," below.)

Burt, Mary E. Browning's Women, chap, viii., pp. 1 13-118. Chicago :
Charles H. Kerr & Co. 1887.

Corson, Hiram. Introduction to Browning. Passages in chap. ii. on
Personality in The Ring and the Book, especially pp. 53-55. Boston :
D. C. Heath & Co. 1886.

. Primer of English Verse. Passage on Blank Verse of

Ring and Book, pp. 224-225. Boston: Ginn & Co. 1892.

Dawson, W. J. The Makers of Modem English, chap, xxxi., pp. 318-
322. New York : Thomas Whittaker. 1890.

Hodell, Charles W. The Ring and the Book : Its Moral Spirit and
Motive, pp. 1-7 1. [Ithaca, Cornell University. Pamphlet, privately
printed.] 1894.

Oliphant, Mrs. English Literature of the Victorian Age. Two vols.
Vol. I., pp. 233-235. London: Perdval & Co. 1892.

Orr, Mrs. Sutherland. Life and Letters of Robert Browning. Two
vols. Passage on Mrs. Browning's relation to Pompilia. Vol. II.,
pp. 408-411. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1891.

Sharpe, William. Life of Robert Browning. Passage in chap, xi., pp.
1 1 3-1 27. London : Walter Scott. 1 890.

Stedman, Edmund C. Victorian Poets, chap, ix., pp. 334-336. Bos-
ton: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1875.

Symons, Arthur. Introduction to Study of Browning. Passage in
section 17, pp. 131-149. London : Cassell & Co. 1887.

xlv

xlvi BIBUOGRAPHY.

Periodicals,

Athenaeum [Reviews]. R. Buchanan. (Same revised in ^Master
Spirits.^^) Dec. 26, 1868. pp. 875-876. March 20, 1869. pp. 399-
400.

Atlantic Monthly [Rev.]. Feb. 1869. pp. 256-259.

Chambers^ Journal [Rev.]. Vol. 46. July 24, 1869. pp. 473-476.

Christian Examiner [Rev.]. J. W. Chadwick. Vol. 86. (New
Series 7). March, 1869. pp. 295-315.

Dublin Review [Rev.]. Vol. 13, New Series. 1869. pp. 48-62.

Edinburgh Review [Rev.]. Vol. 130. July, 1869. pp. 164-186.

Fortnightly Review [Rev.]. John Morley. Vol. XI. March, 1869.

PP- 231-343-
Gentleman^s Magazine. James Thomson. Vol. 251. Dec. 1881.

pp. 682-695. [Cited in Introductory Essay of present volume. See

p. v.]
Macmillan's Magazine [Rev.]. J. A. Symonds. Vol. 19. Jan.

1869. pp. 258-262. And J. R. Mozley. April, 1869. pp. 544-552.
Nation [Rev.]. J. R. Dennett. Vol. 8. Feb. 1869. pp. 135, 136.
North American Review [Rev.]. E. J. Cutler. Vol. 109. July,

1869. pp. 279-283.
North British Review [Rev.]. Vol. 51. 1870. pp. 97-106.
Poet-lore. Ring and the Book Symposium: Caponsacchi, Henry G.

Spaulding ; Pompilia, Alice Kent Robertson ; The Pope, Charles C.

Shackford ; Some of the teachings of The Ring and the Book, F. B.

Hombrooke. Vol. I. June, and July, 1889. pp. 263-273 and 309-

320.
Quarterly Review [Rev.] . Vol.126. 1869. pp. 328-359.
St. James' Magazine [Rev.]. Vol. 23. 1869. pp. 460-464.
St. Paul's Magazine. E. J. Hasell. Vol. 7. pp. 377-397. Same

article. Eclectic Magazine. Vol. 76. April, 1871. pp. 400-412,

and Littell's Living Age. Vol. 108. pp. 771-783.
Tinsley's Magazine [Rev.]. W. B. Vol. 3. Dec 1868. pp. 665-

674.

CO 2. tutta JajOaum CrJ/nirialo

Cdntro

(jruiao^ranccfcninL ^ilfo^

(yJpPirno con la^cuc^/Ia^ne^aftri

iflornana J/cmicUiorurm.

U)isputatur an ctguancfvjnarUi

(Reduced facsimile of Title-page of Beport of the Trial of Ouido FranceachinL)

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

1868-9.

[Book I. places the plan of the poem before the reader, and shows how the pur-
pose of the poet is to transmute by the intermingling of fancy with crude fact, a dry
record of events into a work of art, and thereby gam a more universal truth than
lies in the fact alone. The finished product of art is symbolized as the Ring ; the
crude fact is found in the old yellow Book from which first a bare sketch of the
story is given. Next, the poet sketches the story as he imagines it after his fancy
has clothed the characters with living objective personality. This is symbolized as
the ring with the alloy of fancy added that it may be fashioned into shape. Still it
needs the final spirt of acid to carry off the alloy, leaving only the refashioned
truth. This will be accomplished by bringing all the characters on the scene to
tell their own stories. The poet himself will disappear, but the effects of his fancy
will be revealed in the fashioning of the characters. Thus to the truth of £act is
added the vitalizing truth of art.]

I.

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Do you see thiift^Ring?^-

'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft *)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy mom,
After a dropping April ; found alive

Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots 5

That roof old tombs at Chiusi : ^ soft, you seei
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There 's one trick,

^ Mrs. Browning owned such a ring. After and used by ancient workers in very pure

her death the poet always wore it on his gold, and was successful in reproducing

watch-chain. It is now in the possession of many antique effects,
their son. ' Chiusi: the ancient Clusium of Lars

* Imitative craft : the elder Castellani Porsenna, capital of Etruria, 88 miles from
Fortunato Piso (d. 1865), founderof the house Florence. To the east of the modern city is
of Roman jewellers and antiquarians of that a slope called the Jewellers' Field {Campo
name, opened a studio in 1826, about the degli Orefict) from the relics brought to light
same time that so many antique jewels were there, rarely as the produce of the tombs or
unearthed in Etruria. He turned his atten- of systematic search, but of accidental dic-
tion especially to the rediscovery of the covery, especially after heavy rains,
chemical and mechanical processes known

B I

THE RING AND THE BOOK,

(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device

Andfbut one, fits such slivers of pure gold

As this was, — such mere oozings from the mine^ lo

Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear

At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow, —

To bear the filers tooth and the hammer^s tap :

Since hammer needs must widen out the round,

And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers, 15

Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.

That trick is, the artificer melts up wa?

With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold

With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,

Effects a manageable mass, then works : 20

But his work ended, once the thing.a ring.

Oh, there 's repristination ! ^ Just a spirt

O^the'proper fiery acid o'er its face.

And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fiime ;

White, self-sufBcieht now, the. shape renialnsy 25

The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,

Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore :

Prime nature with an added artistry —

No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.

What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say ;

A thing's sign : now for the thmg signined.

30

35

Do you see this square old yellow Book,^ I toss

r the air, and catch again, and twirl about

By the crumpled vellum covers, — P"*"*^ ^"idfi faiT^

Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard.

And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?

Examine it yourselves! I found this book.

Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,

(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,

Always above my shoulder, pushed me once, 40

One aay still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,

Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,

Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time.

Toward Baccio's marble,* — ay, the basement-ledge

O' the pedestal where sits ana menaces 45

John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,

'Twixt palace and church, — Riccardi where they lived,

His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

> Repristination : restoration to its earlier delle Bande Nere (John of the Black Bands,

nature. father of Cosimo de' Medici) , by Baccio Bandi<

* Book : the original is now in the Library nelli, in the Piazza San Lorenzo, between the

of Balliol College, Oxford. Palazzo Riccardi (the palace of the Medici)

^ Baccio's marble : the statue of Giovanni and the church of San Lorenzo.

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 3

This book, — precisely on that palace-step

Which, meant for lounging knaves o^ the Medici, 50

Now serves re-venders to display their ware, —

^Mongst odds and ends of ravage, picture-frames

White through the worn eilt, mirror-sconces chipped,

Bronze angel-heads once Icnobs attached to chests,

(Handled when ancient dames chose forth brocade) 55

Modem chalk drawings, studies from the nude,

Samples of stone, jet, breccia,^ porphyry

Polished and rouen, sundry amazing busts

In baked earth, (broken. Providence be praised!)

A wreck of tapestry, proudly-purposed web 60

When reds and blues were mdeed red and blue.

Now offered as a mat to save bare feet

(Since carpets constitute a cruel cost)

Treading the chill scagliola ^ bedward : then

A pile of brown-etched prints, two crazie • each, 65

Stopped by a conch a-top from fluttering forth

— Sowing the Square with works of one and the same

Master, the imaginative Sienese ^

Great in the scenic backgrounds — (name and fiame

None of you know, nor does he fare the worse :) 70

From these . . . Oh, with a Lionard going cheap

If it should prove, as promised, that Joconde ^

Whereof a copy contents the Louvre ! — these

I picked this book from. Five compeers in flank

Stood left and right of it as tempting more — 75

A dogseared Spicilegium,* the fond tale

O' the Frail One of the Flower, by young Dumas,''

Vulgarized Horace for the use of schools,

The Life, Death, Miracles of Saint Somebody,

Saint Somebody Else, his Miracles, Death and Life, — 80

With this, one glance at the lettered back of which.

And <^ Stall! ^^ cried I : a Ura made it mine.

Here it is, this I toss and take again;
Small-quarto size, part print part manuscript :

rA book in shape but, really, pure crude fact 85

Secreted from man^s life when*hearts beat hard.
And brains7"htgh^t6bded; ticked two centuries since.
j GiveTt'me back! The thing *s restorative
< r the touch and sight.

> Breccia : bits of ttone from broken walls. Gioconda, by Leonardo da Vinci, in Ae

> Scagliola : maible or stone flooring. Louvre.

* Two cranie : about x|^. * SpiciUgiutn : a book of selections made

* TAe imaginative Sienese .* AdemoUo from the best writers.

(seel. 364). T TAe Frail One of the Flower: La

* Joconde : the portrait of Mooa 1^99^ Pame aux Camellias.

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

That memorable day,
(June was the month, Lorenzo named the Square) 90

I leaned a little and overlooked my prize
By the low railing round the fountain-source
Close to the statue, where a step descends :
While clinked the cans of copper, as stooped and rose
Thick-ankled girls who brimmed them, and made place 95
For marketmen glad to pitch basket down.
Dip a broad melon-leaf that holds the wet,
And whisk their faded fresh. And on I read
Presently, though my path grew perilous
Between the outspread straw-work, piles of plait 100

Soon to be flapping, each o'er two black eyes
And swathe of Tuscan hair, on festas ^ fine :
Through fire-irons, tribes of tongs, shovels in sheaves.
Skeleton bedsteads, wardrobe-drawers agape.
Rows of tall slim brass lamps with dangling gear, — 105

And worse, cast clothes a-sweetening in the sun :
None of them took my eye from off my prize.
Still read I on, from written title-page
To written index, on, through street and street.
At the Strozzi, at the Pillar, at the Bridge ; no

Till, by the time I stood at home again
In Casa Guidi by Felice Church,
Under the doorway where the black begins
With the first stone-slab of the staircase cold,
I had mastered the contents, knew the whole truth 115

Gathered together, bound up in this book.
Print three-fifths, written supplement the rest.
" Romana Homicidiorum " — nay.
Better translate — "A Roman murder-case :
Position of the entire criminal cause 120

Of Guido Franceschini, nobleman,
With certain Four the cutthroats in his pay.
Tried, all five, and found guilty and put to death
By heading or hanging as befitted ranks,
At Rome on February Twenty Two, 125

Since our salvation Sixteen Ninety Eight :
Wherein it is disputed if, and when.
Husbands may kill adulterous wives, yet ^scape
The customary forfeit."

Word for word,
So ran the title-page : murder, or else 130

Legitimate punishment of the other crime.
Accounted murder by mistake, — just that

* Festas : feast days.

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 5

And no more, in a Latin cramp enough

When the law had her eloquence to launch.

But interfilleted with Italian streaks 135

When testimony stooped to mother-tongue, —

That, was this old square yellow book about.

^ow, as the ingQt, fre.the ring was forged,
Lay gold, ^beseech youj^ hold that figure fast!)
So, in this Dook lay absolutely tnitl), 140

Tanciless fact, the documents indeed.
Primary lawyer-pleadings for, against,
Xhe aforesaid Five ; re2 summed-up circumstance
Adduced in proof of these on either side,
Put forth and printed, as the practice was, 145

At Rome, in the Apostolic Chamber's type.
And so submitted to the eye o' the Court
Presided over by His Reverence
Rome's Governor and Criminal Judge, — the trial
Itself, to all intents, being then as now 150

Here in the book and nowise out of it ;
Seeing, there properly was no judgment-bar,
No bringing of accuser and accused.
And whoso judged both parties, face to face
Before some court, as we conceive of courts. 155

There was a Hall of Justice ; that came last :
For Justice had a chamber by the hall
Where she took evidence first, summed up the same.
Then sent accuser and accused alike.

In person of the advocate of each, 160

To weigh its worth, thereby arrange, array
The battle. 'T was the so-styled Fisc ^ began.
Pleaded (and since he only spoke in print
The printed voice of him lives now as then)
The public Prosecutor — " Murder 's proved ; 1 65

With five . . . what we call qualities of bad,
Worse, worst, and yet worse still, and still worse yet ;
Crest over crest crowning the cockatrice.
That beggar hell's regalia to enrich

Count Guido Franceschini : punish him!" 170

Thus was the paper put before the court
In the next stage, (no noisy work at all,)
To study at ease. In due time like reply
Came from the so-styled Patron of the Poor,
Official mouthpiece of the five accused 175

Too poor to fee a better, — Guido's luck
Or else his fellows', — which, I hardly know, —

^ Pitc : ue. Counsel for the Treasury, or Public Prosecutor.

S THE RING AND THE BOOK.

An outbreak as of wonder at the woiid,

A fiiry-fit of outraged innocence,

A passion of betrayed simplicity : i8o

^ Punish Count Guido? For what crime, what hint

O^ the color of a crime, inform us first!

Reward him rather! Recognize, we say,

In the deed done, a righteous judgment dealt!

All conscience and all courage, — there ^s our Count 185

Charactered in a word ; and, what 's more strange,

He had companionship in privilege.

Found four courageous conscientious friends :

Absolve, applaud all five, as props of law,

Sustainers of society! — perchance 190

A trifle over-hasty with the hand

To hold her tottering ark, had tumbled else ;

But that ^s a splendid fault whereat we wink,

Wishing your cold correctness sparkled so! "

Thus paper second followed paper first, 195

Thus aid the two join issue — nay, the four.

Each pleader having an adjunct. ^ True, he killed

— So to speak — in a certain sort — his wife.

But laudably, since thus it happed! ^^ quoth one :

Whereat, more witness and the case postponed. 200

^^ Thus it happed not, since thus he did the deed.

And proved himself thereby portentousest

Of cutthroats and a prodigy of crime.

As the woman that he slaughtered was a saint.

Martyr and miracle! ^^ quoth the other to match : 205

Again, more witness, and the case postponed.

" A miracle, ay — of lust and impudence ;

Hear my new reasons! ^^ interposed the first:

" — Coupled with more of mine! " pursued his peer.

'^ Beside, the precedents, the authorities! '' 210

From both at once a cry with an echo, that!

That was a firebrand at each fox^s tail

Unleashed in a cornfield : soon spread flare enough.

As hurtled thither and there heaped themselves

From earth^s four corners, all authority 215

And precedent for puttinc; wives to death.

Or letting wives live, sinml as they seem.

How legislated, now, in this respect,

Solon and his Athenians ? ^ Quote the code

Of Romulus and Rome ! ^ Justinian' speak! 220

* Solon, etc. : Solon's lawi about women founder of Rome, as given by Plutarch, for-

" were of the itrangeit," tays Plutarch, for bade a wife to leave her husband* but granted

death, heavy fines, and small fines were all a husband power to turn off a wife for coun-

permissible penalties in cases of adultery. terfeiting his keys, or for adultery.

' Codt <if Romuins : the code of the * yusttman : the Roman emperor (530^

THE kiMG AMD THE BOQtC. 7

Nor modern Baldo ^ Bartolo * be dumb!

The Roman voice was potent, plentiful ;

Cornelia de Sicariis * hurried to help

Pompeia de Parricidiis ; Julia de

Something-or-other jostled Lex this-and-that ; 225

King Solomon confirmed Apostle Paul : *

That nice decision of Dolabella, * eh ?

That pregnant instance of Theodoric,* oh!

Down to that choice example i^Elian ^ gives

(An instance I find much insisted on) 230

Of the elephant who, brute-beast though he were,

Yet understood and punished on the spot

His master^s naughty spouse and ^thless friend ;

A true tale which has edified each child,

Much more shall flourish favored by our court ! 235

Pages of proof this way, and that way proof.

And always — once again the case postponed.

Thus wrangled, brangled, jangled they a month,

I Nor ever was, except i' the Hrafns p? men, 240

L More noise by word of mouth than you hear now —
Till the court cut all short with " Judged^ your cause. "
Receive our sentence! Praise God! We pronounce
Count Guido devilish and damnable :

His wife Pompilia in thought, word and deed, 245

Was perfect pure, he murdered her for that :
As for the Four who helped the One, all Five —
Why, let employer and hirelings share alike
In guilt and guilt's reward, the death their due!"

So was the trial at end, do you suppose? 250

<< Guilty you find him, death you doom him to?

Ay, were not Guido, more than needs, a priest,

Priest and to spare! " — this was a shot reserved ;

I learn this from epistles which begin

Here where the print ends, — see the pen and ink 255

564) upon whose Pandects, 539-533, later ^ Sohnum confirmed Paul : Ecc. Tii. 95;

European law was based. x Cor. vii. 39, xi. 3, 9; Rom. vii. a.

^ Baldo : an eminent professor of civil law, * Decision of Dolabella : see viii. 9x3.
also of canon law, bom in 1337. * Instance of Theodoric : the Ostrogoth,

* Bartolo : an erudite Italian jurist (13x3- in letters (Variae Epistolae) written for him

X356) associated with the Emperor Charles V. by Cassiodorus: " For even brute beasts vin-

in codifying laws. To him is attributed the dicate their conjugal rights by force; how

" BuUe d' Or/' the charter of the German much more man who is so deeply dishonored,**

constitution. etc.

> Cornelia de Sicariis ^ Pompeia de Par- ^ JElian : " De Animalium NatttrB," zi.

ricidiis : the titles of Roman laws dealing 15.
with homicide and adultery.

i TNJS RING APfD THE BOOK.

Of the advocate, the ready at a pinch! —

" My client boasts the clerkly privilege,

Has taken minor orders* many enough.

Shows still sufficient chrism upon his pate

To neutralize a blood-stain : presbyter^ 260

Prima tonsura, subcUaconus^

Sacerdos, so he slips from underneath

Your power, the temporal, slides inside the robe

Of mother Church : to her we make appeal

By the Pope, the Church's head!"

A parlous plea, 265

Put in with noticeable effect, it seems ;
" Since straight," — resumes the zealous orator.
Making a friend acquainted with the facts, —
" Once the word *clericality ' let fall,

Procedure stopped and freer breath was drawn 270

By all considerate and responsible Rome."
Quality took the decent part, of course ;
Held by the husband, who was noble too :
Or, for the matter of that, a churl would side
With too-refined susceptibility, 275

And honor which, tender in the extreme.
Stung to the quick, must roughly right itself
At all risks, not sit still and whine for law
As a Jew would, if you squeezed him to the wall.
Brisk-trotting through the Ghetto.* Nay, it seems, 280

Even the Emperor's Envo^ had his say
To say on the subject ; might not see, unmoved.
Civility menaced throughout Christendom
By too harsh measure dezdt her champion here.
Lastly, what made all safe, the Pope was kind, 285

From his youth up, reluctant to take life,
If mercy might be just and yet show grace ;
Much more unlikely then, in extreme age,
To take a life the general sense bade spare.
'T was plain that Guido would go scatheless yet. 290

But human promise, oh, how short of shine!
How topple down the piles of hope we rear!
How history proves . . . nay, read Herodotus!'

* Pnthytert etc. : the names of successive they are sufficient to entitle him to appeal to

orders in the Roman Church, of which the the Pope, as head of the Church,
minor ones can be assumed without causing * Ghetto : the Jews' quarter of the city,
the holder to cease to be a layman; thus (a * Herodotus : t.g. the stories of Croesus or

point of importance in Count Guido's case) of Xerxes,
they do not prevent him from marrying, yet

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 9

Suddenly starting from a nap, as it were,

A dog-sleep with one shut, one open orb, 295

Cried the Pope's * great self, — Innocent by name

And nature too, and eighty-six years old,

Antonio Pignatelli of Naples, Pope

Who had trod many lands, known many deeds,

Probed many hearts, beginning with his own, 300

And now was far in readiness for God, —

T was he who first bade leave those souls in peace.

Those Jansenbts, re-nicknamed Molinists,^

('Gainst whom the cry went, like a frowsy tune.

Tickling men's ears — the sect for a quarter of an hour 305

I' the teeth of the world which, clown-like, loves to chew

Be it but a straw 'twixt work and whistling-while,

Taste some vituperation, bite away,

Whether at marjoram-sprig or garlic-clove,

Aught it may sport with, spoil, and then spit forth) 310

'^ Leave them alone," bade he, '^ those MohnistsI

Who may have other light than we perceive.

Or why is it the whole world hates them thus ? "

Also he peeled off that last scandal-rag

Of Nepotism * ; and so observed the poor 315

That men would merrily say, '^ Halt, deaf and blind,

Who feed on fat things, leave the master's self

To gather up the fragments of his feast.

These be the nephews of Pope Innocent! —

His own meal costs but five carlines * a day, 320

Poor-priest's allowance, for he claims no more."

— He cried of a sudden, this great good old Pope,

When they appealed in last resort to him,

^" 1 have mastered the whole matter : I nothing doubt.

Though Guido stood forth priest from head to heel, 325

Instead of as alleged, a piece of one, —

And further, were he, from the tonsured scalp

To the sandaled sole of him, my son and Christ's,

Instead of touching us by finger-tip

As you assert, and pressmg up so close 330

Only to set a blood-smutch on our robe, —

I and Christ would renounce all right in him.

Am I not Pope, and presently to die.

And busied how to render my account,

^ The Pope : Innocent XII., pope from was declared heretical by the heads of the

169X-X700. Church. Allusions to the orthodox dislike or

* Molinists : followers of Miguel Molinos, dread of Molinism at this time recur frequently

a Spaniard, who published at Rome in 1675 a in this poem.

work of mystical or " quietistic " theology* * Nepotism : favoritism to relationt.
entitled the Guida Spirituale or Spiritual * Carlines: a small silver coin, worth

Guide, which attracted much attention, but about twopence.

lo THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And shall I wait a day ere I decide 335

On doin^ or not doing justice here?
Cut off his head to-morrow by this time,
Hang up his four mates, two on either hand.
And end one business more! "

So said, so done —
Rather so writ, for the old Pope bade this, 340

I find, with his particular chirograph.
His own no such infirm hand, Friday night ;
And next day, February Twenty Two,
Since our salvation Sixteen Ninety Eight,
— Not at the proper head-and-hanging-place 345

On bridge-foot close by Castle Angelo,
Where custom somewhat staled the spectacle,
('T was not so well i' the way of Rome, beside,
The noble Rome, the Rome of Guidons rank)
But at the city's newer gayer end, — 350

The cavalcadmg promenading place
Beside the gate and opposite the church
Under the Pincian gardens green with Spring,
'Neath the obelisk ^ 'twixt the fountains in the Square,
Did Guido and his fellows find their fate, 355

All Rome for witness, and — my writer adds —
Remonstrant in its universal grief.
Since Guido had the sufirage of all Rome.

fThis is the bookfiil ; thus far take the truth;

\ The untempered gold, the fact untampered with, 360

[TQie mere nng-metal ere the ring be made!

""And what has hitherto come of it ? Who preserves

The memory of this Guido, and his wife

Pompilia, more than AdemoUoVname,.

The etcher of those prints, two crazie ea.chj^ 365

Saved by a stone from snowing broad the Square
^With scenic backgrounds? Was this truth of force?
/ Able to take its own part as truth should,
I Sufficient, self-sustaining? Why, if so —

Yonder 's a fire, into it goes my book, 370

As who shall say me nay, and what the loss?

You know the tale already : I may ask,

Rather than think to tell you, more thereof, —

Ask you not merely who were he and she,

Husband and wife, what manner of mankind, 375

^ Obelisk : brought from Egypt by Augus- by Pope Sixtus V. in 1589, and set up in the
tus, and placed in the Circus Maximus, Piazza del Popolo, below the Monte Pincio.
nrhence, having fallen down, it was removed

THt: RlI^G AND THE BOO/t. ft

But how you hold concerning this and that

Other yet-unnamed actor in the piece.

The young frank handsome courtly Canon, now.

The priest, declared the lover of the wife,

He who, no question, did elope with her, 380

For certain bring the tragedy about,

Giuseppe Caponsacchi ; — his strange course

r the matter, was it right or wrong or both ?

Then the old couple, slaughtered with the wifie

By the husband as accomplices in crime, 385

Those Comparini, Pietro and his spouse, —

What say you to the right or wrong of that,

When, at a known name whispered through the door

Of a lone villa on a Christmas night.

It opened that the joyful hearts inside 390

Might welcome as it were an angel-guest

Come in Christ ^s name to knock and enter, sup

And satisfy the loving ones he saved ;

And so did welcome devils and their death?

I have been silent on that circumstance 395

Although the couple passed for close of kin

To wife and husband, were by some accounts

Pompilia's very parents : you know best.

Also that infant the great joy was for.

That Gaetano, the wife's two-weeks' babe, 400

The husband's first-bom child, his son and heir.

Whose birth and being turned his night to day —

Why must the father kill the mother thus

Because she bore his son and saved himself?

Well, British Public, ye who like me not, 405

(God love you!) and will have your proper laugh
At the dark question, laugh it! I laugh first.
Truth must prevail, the proverb vows ; and truth

^ — Here is it all i' the book at last, as first

There it was all i' the heads and hearts of Rome 410

Gentle and simple, never to fall nor fade

\ Nor be forgotten. Yet, a little while,

j The passage of a century or so,

! Decads thrice five, and here 's time paid his tax,
Oblivion gone home with her harvestine, 415

And all left smooth again as scythe could shave.
Far from beginning with you London folk,
I took my book to Rome first, tried truth's power
On likely people. " Have you met such names ?
Is a tradition extant of such facts ? 420

Your law-courts stand, your records frown a-row :
What if I rove and rummage ? " " — Why you 'U waste

r

12 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Yoar pains and end as wise as yoo b^;an! ^

Every one snickered : ^ names and fiicts thus old

Are newer much than Europe news we find 425

Down in to-day^s Diario> Records, quotha?

Why, the French burned them, what else do the French?

The rap-and-rending nation ! And it tells

Against the Church, no doubt, — another gird

At the Temporality, your Trial, of course ? " 430

** — Quite otherwise this time," submitted I ;

''Clean for the Church and dead against the worid.

The flesh and the devil, does it tell for once."

" — The rarer and the happier ! All the same.

Content you with your treasure of a book, 435

And waive what ^s wanting ! Take a friend's advice I

It 's not the custom of the country. Mend

Your ways indeed and we may stretch a point :

Go get you manned by Manning and new-manned

By Newman and, mayhap, wise-manned to boot 440

By Wiseman,^ and we '11 see or else we won't !

Tnanks meantime for the story, long and strong,

A pretty piece of narrative enough,

Wnich scarce ought so to drop out, one would think.

From the more curious annals of our kind. 445

Do you tell the story, now, in off-hand style,

Straight from the book ? Or simply here and there,

(The while you vault it through the loose and large)

Hang to a hmt ? Or is there book at all.

And don't vou deal in poetry, make-believe, 450

And the wnite lies it sounds like ? "

Yes and no!
From the book, ves ; thence bit by bit I dug
The lingot* trutn, that memorable day,
ANNayed and knew my piecemeal gain was gold, —
Yen ; but from something else surpassing that, 455

Something of mine which, mixed up with the mass,
Made it bear hammer and be firm to file.
Fancy with fact is iust one fact the more ;
To-wit. that fancy has informed, transpierced,
Thrldaed and so thrown fast the facts else free, 460

As right through ring and ring runs the dj[ereed ^
I And binds the loose, one bar without a break.

I fused my live soul and that iaert stuff,

•

* /)|(itriW .* daily piiper. * Lingot : the same word as ingot; here »

* A/dNMiW/r*, etc.: distinguished modem the solid mass of truth.

prelates and champions of the Roman Catho- * Dsftrttd: an Arab spear. The allusion
lie Church. is to a game analogous to tilting at a ring.

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 13

BgforfLattempting smithcra^x-QQ the night
After the day when, — truth thus grasped and gained, 465
The book was sliut'and done with and laid by
On the cream-colored massive agate, broad
^Neath the twin cherubs in the tarnished frame
O^l^He mirror, tall thence to the ceiling-top.
\ And from the reading, and that slab I leant 470

My elbow 0% the wmle I read and read,
I turned,"to free imyseir and find the world,
And stepped out on the narrow terrace, built
Over the street and opposite the church,
And paced its lozenge-brickwork sprinkled cool ; 475

Because Felice-church-side stretched, a-glow
Through each square window fringed for festival,
Whence came the clear voice of the cloistered ones
Chanting a chant made for midsummer nights —
I know not what particular praise of God, 480

It always came and went with June. Beneath
r the street, quick shown by openings of the sky
When flame tell silently from cloud to cloud.
Richer than that gold snow^ Jove rained on Rhodes,
The townsmen wSked by twos and threes, and talked, ' 485
Drinking the blackness in default of air —
A busy human sense beneath my feet :
While in and out the terrace-plants, and round
One branch of tall datura,^ waxed and waned
The lamp-fly lured there, wanting the white flower. 490

Over the roof o' the lighted church I looked
A bowshot to the street's end, north away
Out of the Roman gate to the Roman road
By the river, till I felt the Apennine.

And there would lie Arezzo, the man's town, 495

The woman's trap and cage and torture-place,
Also the stage where the priest played his part,
A spectacle for angels, — ay, indeed.
There lay Arezzo! • Farther then I fared.
Feeling my way on through the hot and dense, 500

Romewara, until I found the wayside inn
By Castelnuovo's few mean hut-like homes
Huddled together on the hill-foot bleak,
Bare, broken only by that tree or two
Against the sudden Woody splendor poured 505

Cursewise in day's departure by the sun

•

^ Gold stunvt etc. : as the Rhodians were ' Datura : thorn-apple » stramonium,
the first who offered sacrifices to Minerva, * A rezzo : in Tuscany, about 40 miles
Jove rewarded them by covering the island southeast of Florence,
with a golden cloud from which he sent
blowers of presents upon the people.

14 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

O'er the low house-roof of that squalid inn

Where they three, for the first time and the last,

Husband and wife and priest, met face to face.

Whence I went on again, the end was near, 510

Step by step, missing none and marking all.

Till Rome itself, the ghastly goal, I reached.

Why, all the while, — how could it otherwise? —

The life in me abolished the death of things,

Deep calling unto deep : as then and there 515

Acted itself over again once more

The tragic piece. I saw with my own eyes

In Florence as I trod the terrace, breathed

The beauty and the fearfiilness of night.

How it had run, this round from Rome to Rome — 520

Because, you are to know, they lived at Rome,

Pompilia's parents, as they thought themselves.

Two poor ignoble hearts who did their best

Pgt^God's way, part the other wav tha^ OnH^

To somehow make a shift and scramble through 525

The world's mud, careless if it splashed and spoiled,
JProvided they might so hold high, keep clean
(] Their child's soul, one soul white enough for three,
\ And lift it to whatever star should stoop,
^What possible sphere of purer life than theirs 530

Should come in aid of whiteness hard to save.

I saw the star stoop, that they strained to touch.

And did touch and depose their treasure on.

As Guido Franceschini took away

Pompilia to be his for evermore, 535

While they sang " Now let us depart in peace.

Having beheld thy glory, Guido's wife! "

I saw the star supposed, but fog o' the fen.

Gilded star-fashion by a dint from hell ;

Having been heaved up, haled on its eross way, 540

By hands unguessed before, invisible help

From a dark brotherhood, and specially

Two obscure goblin creatures, fox-faced this.

Cat-clawed the other, called his next of kin

By Guido the main monster, — cloaked and caped, 545

Making as they were priests, to mock God more, —

Abate Paul, Canon Girolamo.

These who had rolled the starlike pest to Rome
. And stationed it to suck up and absorb

The sweetness of Pompilia, rolled again 550

That bloated bubble, with her soul inside,

Back to Arezzo and a palace there —

Or say, a fissure in the honest earth

Whence long ago had curled the vapor first,

THE RING AND THE BOOK, 15

I Blown big by nether fires to appal day : 555

It touchea home, broke, and blasted rar and wide.
; I saw the cheated couple find the cheat
■.__And ^ess what foul rite they were captured for, —

Too rain to follow over hill and dale

That child of theirs caught up thus in the cloud 560

And carried by the Prince o' the Power of the Air

Whither he would, to wilderness or sea.

I saw them, in the potency of fear, -

Break somehow through the satyr-family

(For a gray mother with a monkey-mien, 565

Mopping and mowing, was apparent too,

As confident of capture, all took hands

And danced about the captives in a ring)

— Saw them break through, breathe safe, at Rome again.

Saved by the selfish instinct, losing so 570

Their loved one left with haters. These I saw,

In recrudescency of baffled hate.

Prepare to wring the uttermost revenge

From body and soul thus left them : all was sure,

Fire laid and cauldron set, the obscene ring traced, 575

The victim stripped and prostrate : what of God?

The cleaving of a cloud, a cry, a crash.

Quenched lay their cauldron, cowered i^ the dust the crew,

As, in a glory of armor like Saint George,

Out again sprang the young good beauteous priest 580

Bearing away the lady in his arms,

Saved for a splendid minute and no more.

For, whom i' the path did that priest come upon,

He and the poor lost lady borne so brave,
r* — Checking the song of praise in me, had else 585

I Swelled to the full for God's will done on earth —
1 Whom but a dusk misfeatured messenger,
' No other than the angel of this lifie,
■ Vvhdse cafels lest men see too much at once.

He made the sign, such God-glimpse must suffice, 590

: Nor prejudice the Prince o'. the Power of the Air,

Whose ministration piles us overhead

What we call, first, earth^s roof and, last, heaven's floor.

Now grate o' the trap, then outlet of the cage :

So took the lady, left the priest alone, 595

And once more canopied the world with black.

But through the blackness I saw Rome again.

And where a solitary villa stood

In a lone garden-quarter : it was eve.

The second of the year, and oh so cold! 600

Ever and anon there flittered through the air

A snow-flake, and a scanty couch of snow

i6 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Crusted the grass-walk and the garden-mould.

All was ^ve, silent, sinister, — when, ha?

Glimmenngly did a pack of were-wolves pad 605

The snow, those flames were Guide's eyes in front,

And all five found and footed it, the track.

To where a threshold-streak of warmth and light

Betrayed the villa-door with life inside.

While an inch outside were those blood-bright eyes, 610

And black lips wrinkling o'er the flash of teeth.

And tongues that lolled — Oh God that madest man!

They parleyed in their language. Then one whined —

That was the policy and master-stroke —

Deep in his throat whispered what seemed a name — 611;

" Open to Caponsacchi! " Guido cried :

" Gabriel! " cried Lucifer at pden-gate.

Wide as a heart, opened the door at once.

Showing the joyous couple, and their child

The two-weeks' mother, to the wolves, the wolves 620

To them. Close eyes! And when the corpses lay

Stark-stretched, and those the wolves, their wolf- work done,

Were safe-embosomed by the night again,

I knew a necessary change in things ;

As when the worst watch of the night gives way, • 625

And there comes duly, to take cognizance.

The scrutinizing eye-point of some star —

And who despairs of a new daybreak now?

Lo, the first ray protruded on those five !

It reached them, and each felon writhed transfixed. 630

Awhile they palpitated on the spear

Motionless over Tophet : stand or fall ?

"I say, the spear should fall — should stand, I say! "

Cried the world come to judgment, granting grace

Or dealing doom according to world's wont, 635

I Those world's-bystanders grouped on Rome's cross-road
\ At prick and summons of the primal curse
., » I Which bids man love as well as make a lie.
}>' - There prattle they, discoursed the right and wrong.

Turned wrong to right, proved wolves sheep and sheep wolves, 640

So that you scarce distinguished fell from fleece ;
^.- Till out spoke a great guardian of the fold.

Stood up, put forth his hand that held the crook.

And motioned that the arrested point decline :

Horribly off, the wriggling dead-weight reeled, 645

Rushed to the bottom and lay ruined there.

Though still at the pit's mouth, despite the smoke

O' the burning, tarriers turned again to talk

And trim the balance, and detect at least

A touch of wolf in what showed whitest sheep, 650

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

17

\h^

,1^.

A cross of sheep redeeming the whole wolf, —

_y ex truth a little longer : — less and less,
Because years came and went, and more and more
Brought new lies with them to be loved in turn.
Till dl at once the memory of the thing, — 655

The fact that, wolves or sheep, such creatures were, —

[ Which hitherto, however men supposed,

> Had somehow plain and pillar-like prevailed
, r the midst of them, indisputably fact,

> Granite, timers tooth should grate against, not graze, — 660
; Why, this proved sandstone, friable, fast to fly

And give its grain away at wish o^ the wind.
; Ever and ever more diminutive.

Base gone, shaft lost, only entablature,
; Dwindled into no bigger than a book, 665

'■ Lay of the column ; and that little, left

By the roadside ^mid the ordure, shards and weeds.

Until I haply, wandering that lone way,
' Kicked it up, turned it over, and recognized,

For all the crumblement, this abacus," 670

: This square old yellow book, could calculate
' By this the lost proportions of the style.

r This was it from, my fancy with those facts,
■ i used to tell the tale, turneil gayto erave,
But lacked a listener seldom ; such mlov, 675

Such substance of me interfused the gold
s Which, wrought into a shapelv ring therewith,

Hanimered and filed, fingerea and favored, last
^^ Lay ready for the renovating wash

[ 2^^ water. " How much of the tale was true? " 680

f disappeared ; the book grew all in all ;
The lawyers' pleadings swelled back to their size, —
Doubled in two, the crease upon them yet,
For more commodity of carriage, see! —
And these are letters, veritable sheets 685

That brought posthaste the news to Florence, writ
At Rome the day Count Guido died, we find.
To stay the craving of a client there,
Who bound the same and so produced my book.
Lovers of dead truth, did ye fare the worse? 690

Lovers of live truth, found ye false my tale?

fWell, now ; there 's nothing in nor out o' the world
\ GoOcTexcept truth : yet this the something else,

1 AhacHS : the upper part of the capital of a pillar on which the architrave rests,
its earliest forms it is generally square in shapcu

C

In

i8 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

I What ^s this then, which proves ^ood yet seems untrue?
LThis that I mixed with truth, motions of mine 695

That quickened, made the inertness malleolable ^

O' the gold was not mine, — what *s your name for this?

Are means .to the end, themselves in part^thes, end?

Is fiction which makes iasX alive^ iasX too?

The somehow may be thishow.

I find first 700

Writ down for very A B C of fact,
^< In the beginning God made heaven and earth ; ^
From which, no matter with what lisp, I spell
And speak vou out a consequence — that man,
Man, — as befits the made, the inferior thing, — 705

f Purposed, since made, to grow, not make in turn,

J Yet forced to try and make, else fail to grow, —
Formed to rise, reach at, if not grasp and gain
The good beyond him, — which attempt is growth, —
Repeats God's process in man's due degree, 710

1 Attaining man's proportionate result, —

IJZreates, no, but resuscitates, perhaps.
Inalienable, the arch-prerogative
Which turns thought, act — conceives, expresses too!

f^iLlesSt man, bounded, yearning to be free, 715

iMay so project his surplusage ofsoul
'In search of body, so add selfto jglf
By owning what lay ownerless before, —

• So find, so fill fiill, s61apprQpnate-^nns.-r-
That, although nothing which had never life 720

Shall get life fi'om him, be, not haying^ been^

\ Yet, something dead may get to liyeagain,^

^ Something wimtoo much nfe or npf enoughy
Which, either way imperfect ended once :
[An end whereat man's impulse intervene 725

/Makes new beginning, starts the dead alive,
I Completes the incomplete and saves the thing.
Man's breath were vain to light a virgin wick, —
Half-bumed-out, all but quite-quenched wicks o' the lamp
Stationed for temple-service on this earth, 730

These indeed let him breathe on and relume!
For such man's feat is, in the due degree,
— Mimic creation, galvanism for life.
But still a glory portioned in the scale.

Why did the mage say, — feeling as we are wont 735

For truth, and stopping midway short of truth.
And resting on a lie, — "I raise a ghost " ?

* Malleolable : fonned from the Latin, malleolus, a little hammer.

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 19

r^ Because/^ he taught adepts, ^'man makes not man.
V -^ I Yet by a special gift, an art of arts,
^^^^ I ) More insight and more outsight and much more 740

^ I Will to use both of these than boast my mates,

i I can detach from me, commission fortn

1 Half of my soul ; which in its pilgrimage

i O'er old unwandered waste ways of the world,
May chance upon some fra^ent of a whole, 745

; Rag of flesh, scrap of bone m dim disuse.
Smoking flax that fed fire once : prompt therein
I enter, spark-like, put old powers to play.
Push lines out to the limit, lead forth last
(By a moonrise through a ruin of a crypt) 750

What shall be mistily seen, murmuringly heard.
Mistakenly felt : then write my name with Faust's! "
Oh, Faust, why Faust? Was not Elisha once? —
Who bade them lay his staff on a corpse-£^e.
iTiere was no voice, no hearing : he went in 755

Therefore^ and shut the door upon them twain,
And prayed unto the Lord : and he went up
And lay upon the corpse, dead on the coucn.
And put his mouth upon its mouth, his eyes
Uponlts eyes, his hands upon its hands, 760

And stretcned him on the flesh ; the flesh waxed warm :
And he returned, walked to and fro the house.
And went up, stretched him on the flesh again,
And the eyes opened. 'T is a credible feat
With the right man and way.

Enough of me ! 765

. The Book! I turn its medicinable leaves
In London now till, as in Florence erst,
. ~ A spirit laughs and leaps through every limb,
, . ; And lights my eye, and lifts me by the hair,

^^—^^ ■ ; Letting me have my will again with these 770

— How title I the aead alive once more?

Count Guido Franceschini the Aretine,

Descended of an ancient house, though poor,

A beak-nosed bushv-bearded black-haired lord,

Lean, pallid, low ot stature yet robust, 775

Fifty years old, — having four years ago

Married Pompilia Comparini, young.

Good, beautiful, at Rome, where she was bom,

And brought her to Arezzo, where they lived

Unhappy lives, whatever curse the cause, — 780

This husband, taking four accomplices.

Followed this wife to Rome, where she was fled

20 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

From their Arezzo to find peace again.

In convoy, eight months earlier, of a priest,

Aretine also, of still nobler birth, 785

Giuseppe Caponsacchi, — caught her there

Quiet in a villa on a Christmas night,

With only Pietro and Violante by.

Both her putative parents ; killed the three,

Aged, they, seventy each, and she, seventeen, 790

And, two weeks since, the mother of his babe

First-bom and heir to what the style was worth

O' the Guido who determined, dared and did

This deed just as he purposed point by point.

Then, bent upon escape, but hotly pressed, 795

And captured with his co-mates that same night,

He, brought to trial, stood on this defence —

Injury to his honor caused the act ;

And since his wife was false, (as manifest

By flight from home in such companionship,) 800

Death, punishment deserved of the false wife

And faithless parents who abetted her

r the flight aforesaid, wronged nor God nor man.

** Nor false she, nor yet faithless they," replied

The accuser ; " cloaked and masked this murder glooms ; 805

True was Pompilia, loyal too the pair ;

Out of the man's own heart a monster curled

Which — crime coiled with connivancy at crime —

His victim's breast, he tells you, hatched and reared ;

Uncoil we and stretch stark the worm of hell! " 810

A month the trial swayed this way and that

Ere judgment settled down on Guido's guilt ;

Then was the Pope, that good Twelfth Innocent,

Appealed to : who well weighed what went before,

Affirmed the guilt and gave the guilty doom. 815

Let this old woe step on the stage again!
Act itself o'er anew for men to judge,

1 Not by the very sense and sight indeed —

: (Which take at best imperfect cognizance.
Since, how heart moves brain, and how both move hand, 820
What mortal ever in entirety saw?)
— No dose of purer truth than man digests,
But truth with falsehood, milk that feeds him now.
Not strong meat he may get to bear some day —
To-wit, by voices we call evidence, 825

Uproar in the echo, live fact deadened down.
Talked over, bruited abroad, whispered away,
Yet helping us to all we seem to hear :
For how else know we save by worth of word?

THE RIl/G AJ^D THE BOOK. H

Here are the voices presently shall sound 830

In due succession. First, the world^s outcry

Around the rush and ripple of any fact

Fallen stonewise, plumb on the smooth face of thinss ;

The world^s guess, as it crowds the bank o^ the poo^

At what were fi^re and substance, by their splash : 835

Then, by vibrations in the general mind,

At depth of deed already out of reach.

This threefold murder of the day before, —

Say, Half-Rome's feel after the vanished truth ;

Honest enough, as the way is : all the same, 840

Harboring in the centre of its sense

A hidden germ of failure, shy but sure,

To neutralize that honesty and leave

That feel for truth at fault, as the way is too.

Some prepossession such as starts amiss, 845

By but a hair's breadth at the shoulder-blade.

The arm o' the feeler, dip he ne'er so bold ;

So leads arm waveringly, lets fall wide

O' the mark its finger, sent to find and fix

Truth at the bottom, that deceptive speck. 850

With this Half-Rome, — the source of swerving, call

Over-belief in Guido's right and wrong

Rather than in Pompilia's wrong and right :

Who shall say how, who shall say why? 'Tis there —

The instinctive theorizing whence a fact 855

Looks to the eye as the eye likes the look.

Gossip in a public place, a sample-speech.

Some worthy, with his previous hint to find

A husband's side the safer, and no whit

Aware he is not iCacus ^ the while, — 860

How such an one supposes and states fact

To whosoever of a multitude

Will listen, and perhaps prolong thereby

The not-unpleasant flutter at the breast,

Born of a certain spectacle shut in 865

By the church Lorenzo opposite. So, they lounge

Midway the mouth o' the street, on Corso side,

'Twixt palace Fiano and palace Ruspoli,

Linger and listen ; keeping clear o' the crowd.

Yet wishful one could lend that crowd one's eyes, 870

( So universal is its plague of squint)

And make hearts beat our time that flutter false :

— All for truth's sake, mere truth, nothing else !

How Half-Rome found for Guido much excuse.

^ MacHs : the colleague of Minos and Rbadamanthus as judge of the nether worl4»
hence a type of impartiality.

22 THE nmc A/fD THE BOOK.

Next, from Rome^s other half, the opposite feel 875

For truth with a like swerve, like unsuccess, —

Or if success, by no skill but more luck

This time, through siding rather with the wife,

Because a fancy-fit inclined that way,

Than with the husband. One wears drab, one pink ; 880

Who wears pink, ask him " Which shall win the race,

Of coupled runners like as egg and egg? "

" — Why, if I must choose, he with the pink scarf."

Doubtless for some such reason choice fell here.

A piece of public talk to correspond 885

At the next stage of the story ; just a day

Let pass and new day brings the proper change.

Another sample-speech i' the market-place

O' the Barberini by the Capucins ;

Where the old Triton,^ at his fountain-sport, 890

Bernini's creature plated to the paps,

Puffs up steel sleet which breaks to diamond dust,

A spray of sparkles snorted from his conch.

High over the caritellas, out o' the way

O' the motley merchandizing multitude. 895

Our murder nas been done three days ago,

The frost is over and gone, the south wmd laughs.

And, to the very tiles of each red roof

A-smoke i' the sunshine, Rome lies gold and glad :

So, listen how, to the other half of Rome, 900

Pompilia seemed a saint and martyr both!

Then, yet another day let come and go.

With pause prelusive still of novelty,

Hear a fresh speaker! — neither this nor that

Half-Rome aforesaid ; something bred of both : 905

One and one breed the inevitable three.

Such is the personaee harangues you next ;

The elaborated product, tertium quid: ^

Rome's first commotion in subsidence gives

The curd o' the cream, flower o' the wheat, as it were, 910

And finer sense o' the city. Is this plain?
, You get a reasoned statement of the case,
i Eventual verdict of the curious few

Who care to sift a business to the bran

Nor coarsely bolt it like the simpler sort. 915

Here, after ignorance, instruction speaks ;

1 Old Triton : fountain in the great square ' Ttrtium quid: a third something,
of the Barberini palace, palace and fountain
both by Bernini, celebrated sculptor and archi-
tect, X598-1680.

THE Rmo AND THE BOOK. 23

Here, clarity of candor, history's soul,

The critical mind, in short : no gossip-guess.

What the superior social section thinks,

In person of some man of quality 920

Who, — breathing musk from lace-work and brocade,

His solitaire amid the flow of frill.

Powdered peruke on nose, and bag at back,

And cane dependent from the ruffled wrist, —

Harangues in silvery and selectest phrase 925

'Neath waxlight in a glorified saloon

Where mirrors multiply the girandole : 1

Courting the approbation of no mob,

But Emmence This and All-Illustrious That

Who take snuff softly, range in well-bred ring, 930

Cardntable-quitters for observance' sake.

Around the argument, the rational word —

Still, spite its weight and worth, a sample-speech.

How Quality dissertated on the case.

So much for Rome and rumor ; smoke comes first : 935

Once let snioke rise untroubled, we descry

Clearlier what tongues of flame may spire and spit

To eye and ear, each with appropriate tinge

According to its food, or pure or foul.

The actors, no mere rumors of the act, 940

Intervene. First you hear Count Guido's voice,

In a small chamber that adjoins the court.

Where Governor and Judges, summoned thence,

Tommati, Venturini and the rest.

Find the accused ripe for declaring truth. 945

Soft-cushioned sits he ; yet shifts seat, shirks touch,

As, with a twitchy brow and wincing lip

And cheek that changes to all kinds of white.

He proffers his defence, in tones subdued

Near to mock-mildness now, so mournful seems 950

The obtuser sense truth fails to satisfy ;

Now, moved, from pathos at the wrong endured.

To passion ; for the natural man is roused

At tools who first do wrong then pour the blame

Of their wrong-doing, Satan-like, on Job. 955

Also his tongue at times is hard to curb ;

Incisive, nigh satiric bites the phrase.

Rough-raw, yet somehow claiming privilege

— It is so hard for shrewdness to admit

Folly means no harm when she calls black white! 960

— Eruption momentary at the most,

' Girandole : a dance.

U THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Modified forthwith Jby a fell o' the fire,

Sage acquiescence ; for the world *s the world.

And, what it errs in. Judges rectify :

He feels he has a fist, then folds his arms 965

Crosswise and makes his mind up to be meek.

And never once does he detach his eye

From those ranged there to slay him or to save,

But does his best man^s-service for himself,

Despite, — what twitches brow and makes lip wince,< — 970

His limbs^ late taste of what was called the Cord,

Or Vigil-torture ^ more facetiously.

Even so ; they were wont to tease the truth

Out of loth witness (toying, trifling time)

By torture : 't was a trick, a vice of the age, 975

Here, there and everywhere, what would you have ?

Religion used to tell Humanity

She gave him warrant or denied him course.

And since the course was much to his own mind.

Of pinching flesh and pulling bone from bone 980

To unhusk truth a-hiding in its hulls,

Nor whisper of a warning stopped the way.

He, in their joint behalf, the burly slave.

Bestirred him, mauled and maimed all recusants.

While, prim in place. Religion overlooked ; 985

And so had done till doomsday, never a sign

Nor sound of interference from her mouth.

But that at last the burly slave wiped brow,

Let eye give notice as it soul were there.

Muttered " 'T is a vile trick, foolish more than vile, 990

Should have been counted sin ; I make it so :

At any rate no more of it for me —

Nay, for I break the torture-engine thus! "

Then did Religion start up, stare amain,

Look round for help and see none, smile and say 995

"What, broken is the rack? Well done of thee!

Did I forget to abrogate its use ?

Be the mistake in common with us both !

— One more fault our blind age shall answer for,

Down in my book denounced though it must be 1000

Somewhere. Henceforth find truth by milder means! "

Ah but. Religion, did we wait for thee

To ope the book, that serves to sit upon,

And pick such place out, we should wait indeed!

That is all history : and what is not now, 1005

Was then, defendants found it to their cost.

How Guido, after being tortured, spoke.

^ Vigil-torture : which kept the accused a jurist of Bologna, and called by him cordis
from sleep, said to be invented by Marsiliis, dolorem.

THE RING AND THE BOOK, as

Also hear Caponsacchi who comes next,

Man and priest — could ^ou comprehend the coil! —

In days when that was nfe which now is rare. loio

How, mingling each its multifarious wires,

Now heaven, now earth, now heaven and earth at oncCi

Had plucked at and perplexed their puppet here^

Played off the young frank personable priest ;

Sworn fast and tonsured plain heaven^s celibate, 1015

And yet earth's clear-accepted servitor,

A courtly spiritual Cupid, squire of dames

By law of love and mandate of the mode.

The Church's own, or why parade her seal.

Wherefore that chrism and consecrative work? 1020

Yet verily the world's, or why go badged

A prince of sonneteers and lutanists,^

Show color of each vanity in vogue

Borne with decorum due on blameless breast?

All that is changed now, as he tells the court 1025

How he had played the part excepted at ;

Tell it, moreover, now the second time :

Since, for his cause of scandal, his own share

I' the flight from home and husband of the wife,

He has been censured, punished in a sort 1030

By relegation, — exile, we should say.

To a short distance for a little time, —

Whence he is summoned on a sudden now,

Informed that she, he thought to save, is lost,

And, in a breath, bidden re-tell his tale, 1035

Since the first telling somehow missed effect.

And then advise in the matter. There stands he.

While the same grim black-panelled chamber blinks

As though rubbed shiny with the sins of Rome

Told the same oak for ages — wave-washed wall 1040

Against which sets a sea of wickedness.

There, where you yesterday heard Guido speak.

Speaks Caponsacchi ; and there face him too

Tommati, Venturini and the rest

Who, eight months earlier, scarce repressed the smile^ 1045

Forewent the wink ; waived recognition so

Of peccadillos incident to youth.

Especially youth high-born ; for youth means love,

Vows can't change nature, priests are only men.

And love likes stratagem and subterfiige 1050

Which age, that once was youth, should recognize,

May blame, but needs not press too hard upon.

Here sit the old Judges then, but with no grace

^ Lutanisf: player on the lute.

26 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Of reverend carriage, magisterial port :

For why? The accused of eight months since, — the same 1055

Who cut the conscious figure of a fool,

Changed countenance, dropped bashful gaze to ground.

While hesitating for an answer then, —

Now is grown judge himself, terrifies now

This, now the other culprit called a judge, 1060

Whose turn it is to stammer and look strange,

As he speaks rapidly, angrily, speech that smites :

And they keep silence, bear blow after blow.

Because the seeming-solitary man.

Speaking for God, ma^ have an audience too, 1065

Invisible, no discreet judge provokes.

How the priest Caponsacchi said his say.

Then a soul sighs its lowest and its last

After the loud ones, — so much breath remains

Unused by the four-days'-dying ; for she lived 1070

Thus long, miraculously long, 't was thought,

Just that Pompilia might dercnd herself.

How, while the hireling and the alien stoop.

Comfort, yet question, — since the time is brief.

And folk, allowably inquisitive, 1075

Encircle the low pallet where she lies

In the good house that helps the poor to die, —

Pompilia tells the story of her life.

For friend and lover, — leech and man of law

Do service ; busj helj^fiil ministrants 1080

As varied in their calung as their mind.

Temper and age : and yet from all of these.

About the white bed under the arched roof.

Is somehow, as it were, evolved a one, —

Small separate sympathies combined and large, 1085

Nothings that were, grown something very much :

As if the bystanders gave each his straw.

All he had, though a trifle in itself.

Which, plaited afi together, made a Cross

Fit to die looking on and praying with, 1090

Just as well as if ivory or gold.

So, to the common kindliness she speaks.

There being scarce more privacy at the last

For mind than body : but she is used to bear.

And only unused to the brotherly look. 1095

How she endeavored to explain her life.

Then, since a Trial ensued, a touch o' the same

To sober us, flustered with frothy talk.

And teach our common sense its helplessness.

THE RING AND THE BOOK. Tj

For why deal simply with divining-rod, Iioo

Scrape where we fancy secret sources flow,

And ignore law, the recognized machine,

Elaborate display of pipe and wheel

Framed to unchoke, pump up and pour apace

Truth till a flowery foam shall wash the world? 1105

The patent truth-extracting process, — ha?
. y^ /' ^Let us make that grave naystery turn one wheel,
y \ ) Give you a single grind 01 law at least!

One Orator, of two on either side.

Shall teach us the puissance of the* tongue mo

— That is, o' the pen which simulated tongue

On paper and saved all except the sound

Which never was. Law's speech beside law's thought?

That were too stunnins^, too immense an odds :

That point of vantage Taw lets nobly pass. 11 15

One lawyer shall admit us to behold

The manner of the making out a case,

First fashion of a speech ; the chick in egg,

The masterpiece law's bosom incubates.

How Don Giacinto of the Arcangeli, 1120

Called Procurator of the Poor at Rome,

Now advocate for Guido and his mates, —

The jolly learned man of middle age,

Cheek and jowl all in laps with isX and law.

Mirthful as mighty, yet, as great hearts use, 1125

Despite the name and fame that tempt our flesh,

Constant to that devotion of the hearth,

Still captive in those dear dom.estic ties! —

How he, — having a cause to triumph with,

All kind of interests to keep intact, 1130

More than one eflicacious personage

To tranquillize, conciliate and secure.

And above all, public anxiety

To quiet, show its Guido in good hands, —

Also, as if such burdens were too light, 1 135

A certain family-feast to claim his care.

The birthday-banquet for the only son —

Paternity at smUing strife with law —

How he brings both to buckle in one bond ;
And, thick at throat, with waterish under-eye, 11 40

Turns to his task and settles in his seat

And puts his utmost means in practice now :

Wheezes out law-phrase, whifiles Latin forth.

And, just as though roast lamb would never be,

Makes logic levigate ^ the big crime small : 1 145

^ Levigate : make light of.

28 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Rubs palm on palm, rakes foot with itchy foot,

Conceives and inchoates the arj^ment,

Sprinkling each flower appropriate to the time,

— Ovidian quip or Ciceronian crank, •

A-bubble in the larynx while he laughs, 115a

As he had fritters cleep down frying there.

How he turns, twists, and tries the oily thing

Shall be — first speech for Guido 'gainst the Fisc.

Then with a skip as it were from heel to head.

Leaving yourselves fill up the middle bulk 11 55

O' the Trial, reconstruct its shape august.

From such exordium clap we to the dose ;

Give you, if we dare wing to such a height.

The absolute g;lory in some frill-grown speech

On the other side, some finished butterfly, 1 160

Some breathing diamond-flake with leaf-gold fans,

That takes the air, no trace of worm it was,

Or cabbage-bed it had production from.

Giovambattista o' the Bottini, Fisc,

Pompilia's patron by the chance of the hour, 11 65

To-morrow her persecutor, — composite, he.
As becomes who must meet such various calls —
Odds of age joined in him with ends of youth.
A man of ready smile and £&cile tear.

Improvised hopes, despairs at nod and beck, 1 170

And language — ah, the gift of eloquence!
Language that goes, goes, easy as a glove.
O'er good and evil, smoothens both to one.
Rashness helps caution with him, fires the straw,
In free enthusiastic careless fit, 1175

On the first proper pinnacle of rock
Which offers, as reward for all that zeal.
To lure some bark to founder and bring gain :
While calm sits Caution, rapt with heavenward eye,
A true confessor's gaze, amid the glare 1 180

Beaconing to the breaker, death and hell.
" Well done, thou good and faithful " she approves :
" Hadst thou let shp a fagot to the beach.
The crew might surely spy thy precipice
And save their boat ; the simple and the slow 1 185

Might so, forsooth, forestall the wrecker's fee!
Let the next crew be wise and hail in time ! "
Just so compounded is the outside man,
Blue juvenile pure eye and pippin cheek.
And brow all prematurely soiled and seamed 1 190

With sudden age, bright devastated hair.
Ah, but you miss the very tones o' the voice,
The scrannel pipe that screams in heights of head,

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 29

As, in his modest studio, all alone.

The tall wieht stands a-tiptoe, strives and strains, 1195

Both eyes shut, like the cockerel that would crow,

Tries to his own self amorously o'er

What never will be uttered else than so —

Since to the four walls, Forum and Mars' Hill,

Speaks out the poesy which, penned, turns prose. 1200

Clavecinist ^ debarred his instrument,

He yet thrums — shirking neither turn nor trill,

With desperate fineer on dumb table-edge —

The sovereign rondo,^* shall conclude his Suitey

Charm an imaginary audience there, 1205

From old Corelli ' to young HaendeV both

r the flesh at Rome, ere he perforce go print

The cold black score, mere music for the mind —

The last speech against Guido and his gang.

With special end to prove Pompilia pure. 12 10

How the Fisc vindicates Pompilia's fame.

Then comes the all but end, the ultimate

Judgment save yours. Pope Innocent the Twelfth,

Simple, sagacious, mild yet resolute.

With prudence, probity and — what beside 1 2 1 5

From the other world he feels impress at times,

Having attained to fourscore years and six, —

How, when the court found Guido and the rest

Guilty, but law supplied a subterfuge

And passed the final sentence to the Pope, 1220

He, bringing his intelligence to bear

This last time on what ball behoves him drop

In the urn, or white or black, does drop a black.

Send Ave souls more to just precede his own,

Stand him in stead and witness, if need were, 1225

How he is wont to do God's work on earth.

The manner of his sitting out the dim

Droop of a sombre February day

In the plain closet where he does such work,

With, from all Peter's treasury, one stool, 1230

One table, and one lathen ^ crucifix.

There sits the Pope, his thoughts for company ;

Grave but not sad, — nay, something like a cheer

^ C/av^ctVrtlr/.* a player on the harpsichord. ^Haendel: celebrated composer, 1685-

* Rondo: a form of composition in which X759.

the theme is repeated and developed according '^ Lathtn : probably meant for latten^ a
to certain rules. Often used as the final move- fine kind of brass or bronze used in the
ment of a sonata or suite. Middle Ages for crosses and candlesticks.

* Corelli: Arcangelo, violin virtuoso and
composer, Z653-Z7Z3.

30 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Leaves the lips free to be benevolent,

Which, all day long, did duty firm and fast. 1235

A cherishing there is of foot and knee,
A chafing loose-skinned large-veined hand with hand, —
What steward but knows when stewardship earns its wage,
May levy praise, anticipate the lord ?

He reads, notes, lays the papers down at last, 1240

Muses, then takes a turn about the room ;
Unclasps a huge tome in an antique guise.
Primitive print and tongue half obsolete,
That stands him in diurnal stead ; opes page.
Finds place where falls the passage to be conned 1245

According to an order long in use :
And, as he comes upon the evening^s chance.
Starts somewhat, solemnizes straight his smile,
Then reads aloud that portion first to last.
And at the end lets fiow his own thoughts forth 1250

Likewise aloud, for respite and relief,
\v>'' Till by the dreary relics of the west

\^ Wan through the half-moon window, all his light.

He bows the head while the lips move in prayer.
Writes some three brief lines, signs and seals the same, 1255
Tinkles a hand-bell, bids the obsequious Sir
Who puts foot presently o' the closet-sill
He watched outside of, bear as superscribed
That mandate to the Governor forthwith :
Then heaves abroad his cares in one good sigh, 1260

Traverses corridor with no arm's help.
And so to sup as a clear conscience should.
The manner of the judgment of the Pope.

Then must speak Guido yet a second time,

Satan^s old saw being apt here — skin for skin, 1265

All a man hath that will he give for life.

While life was graspable and gainable.

And bird-like buzzed her wings round Guido's brow,

Not much truth stiffened out the web of words

He wove to catch her : when away she flew 1270

And death came, death's breath rivelled ^ up the lies,

Left bare the metal thread, the fibre fine

Of truth, i' the spinning : the true words shone last.

How Guido, to another purpose quite.

Speaks and despairs, the last night of his life, 1275

In that New Prison by Castle Angel o

At the bridge foot : the same man, another voice.

On a stone bench in a close fetid cell,

^ Rivetted : shrank up.

THE RING AND THE BOOK, 31

Where the hot vapor of an agony,

Struck into drops on the cold wall, runs down — 1280

Horrible worms made out of sweat and tears —

There crouch, well nigh to the knees in dungeon-straw^

Lit by the sole lamp suffered for their sake,

Two awe-struck figures, this a Cardinal,

That an Abate, both of old styled friends 1285

O^ the thing part man part monster in the midst,

So changed is Franceschini's gentle blood.

The tiger-cat screams now, that whined before,

That pried and tried and trod so gingerly.

Till in its silkiness the trap-teeth joined ; 1290

Then you know how the bristling fiiry foams.

They listen, this wrapped in his folds of red,

While his feet fumble for the filth below ;

The other, as beseems a stouter heart.

Working his best with beads and cross to ban 1295

The enemy that comes in like a flood

Spite of the standard set up, verily

And in no trope at all, against him there ;

For at the prison-gate, just a few steps

Outside, already, in the doubtful dawn, 1300

Thither, from this side and from that, slow sweep

And settle down in silence solidly.

Crow-wise, the frightful Brotherhood of Death ^

Black-hatted and black-hooded huddle they.

Black rosaries a-dangling from each waist ; 1305

So take they their grim station at the door.

Torches lit, skull-and-cross-bones-banner spread,

And that gigantic Christ with open arms,

Grounded. Nor lacks there aught but that the group

Break forth, intone the lamentable psalm, 13 fo

"Out of the deeps. Lord, have I cried to thee!" —

When inside, from the true profound, a sign

Shall bear intelligence that the foe is foiled,

Count Guido Franceschini has confessed,

And is absolved and reconciled with God. 131 5

Then they, intoning, may begin their march.

Make by the longest way for the People's Square,

Carry the criminal to his crime's award :

A mob to cleave, a scaffolding to reach,

Two gallows and Mannaia ^ crowning all. 1320

How Guido made defence a second time.

^ Brotherhood of Death : the confrater- * Mannaia : a kind of guillotine,
nity of the Misericordia, or brothers-of mercy,
who prepare criminals for death, and attend
funends as an act of charity.

32 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Finally, even as thus by step and step

I led you from the level of to-day

Up to the summit of so long ago,

Here, whence I point you the wide prospect round — 1325

Let me, by like steps, slope you back to smooth.

Land you on mother-earth, no whit the worse,

To feed o' the fat o' the furrow : free to dwell.

Taste our time's better things profusely spread

) For all who love the level, corn and wine, 1330

; Much cattle and the many-folded fleece.

' Shdl not my friends go ^ast again on sward,

: Though cognizant of country in the clouds

i Higher than wistful eagle's horny eye
Ever unclosed for, 'mid ancestrd crags, 1335

When morning broke and Spring was back once more.
And he died, heaven, save by his heart, unreached?
Yet heaven my fancy lifts to, ladder-like, —
As Jack reached, holpen^ of his beanstalk-rungs!

A novel country : I might make it mine 1340

By choosing which one aspect of the year
Suited mood best, and putting solely that
On panel somewhere in the House of Fame,
Landscaping what I saved, not what I saw :
— Might fix you, whether frost in eoblin-time 1345

Startled the moon with his abrupt Ijright laugh,
Or, August's hair afloat in filmy fire,
She fell, arms wide, face foremost on the world.
Swooned there and so singed out the strength of things.
Thus were abolished Spring and Autumn both, 1350

The land dwarfed to one likeness of the land,
^Life cramped corpse-fashion. Rather learn and love
Each facet-flash of the revolving year! —
Red, green and blue that whirl mto a white,
The variance now, the eventual unity, 1355

j,- Which make the miracle. See it for yourselves,
This man's act, changeable because alive!
Action now shrouds, nor shows the informing thought ;
Man, like a glass ball with a spark a-top,
Out of the magic fire that lurks inside, 1360

Shows one tint at a time to take the eye :
Which, let a finger touch the silent sleep.
Shifted a hair's-breadth shoots you dark for bright,
Suffuses bright with dark, and baffles so
Your sentence absolute for shine or shade. 1365

Once set such orbs, — white styled, black stigmatized, —

^ Holpen : old form, past participle of help.

c^

u

THE RING AND THE BOOK. 33

\ A-rolling, see them once on the other side
Your good men and your bad men every one
From Guido Franceschini to Guy Faux,
Oft would you rub your eyes and change your names. 1370

Such, British Public, ye who like me not,
(God love you!) — whom I yet have labored for,
Perchance more careful whoso runs may read
Than erst when all, it seemed, could read who ran, -
Perchance more careless whoso reads may praise 1375

Than late when he who praised and read and wrote
Was apt to find himself the self-same me, —
TSuch labor had such issue, so I wrought
This arc, by furtherance of such alloy.

And so, bv one spirt, take away its trace 1380

Till, justifiably golden, rounds my ring.

-——A ring without a posy,^ and that ring mine?

fO l)rric Love, half aneel and half bird
^And all a wonder and a wild desire, —

Boldest of hearts that ever braved the sun, 1385

Took sanctuary within the holier blue.

And sang a kindred soul out to his face, —

Yet human at the red-ripe of the heart —

When the first summons from the darkling earth

Reached thee amid thy chambers, blanched their blue, 1390

And bared them of the glory — to drop down.

To toil for man, to suffer or to die, —

This is the same voice : can thy soul know change?
^ail then, and hearken from the realms of help!
r Never may I commence my song, my due 1395

To God who best taught song by gift of thee,
[Except with bent head and beseeching hand —
^""[That still, despite the distance and the dark,
tWhat was, again may be ; some interchange

Of grace, some splendor once thy very thought, 1400

Some benediction anciently thy smile :
f — Never conclude, but raising hand and head
\ Thither where eyes, that cannot reach, yet yearn
I For all hope, all sustainment, all reward,
< Their utmost up and on, — so blessing back 1405

In those thy realms of help, that heaven thy home.

Some whiteness which, I judge, thy face makes proud,
_Some wanness where, I think, thy foot may fall!

^ Posy : a motto or rhyme engraved inside a ring.

34 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

II.

HALF-ROME.

[Book II. gives the facts of the story ending in the murder as known to the gen-
eral public and colored by the partisanship of the speaker for wronged husbands.
His sympathies are, therefore, with Guido, and he is the mouthpiece of one half
Rome. The scene is by the church of San Lorenzo, in and out of which has
surged all day a crowd, curious to. view Guido's victims, Pietro and Violante.]

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I 'd meet.)

Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd :

This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze :

I '11 tell you like a book and save your shins.

Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault? 5

Lorenzo in Lucina,^ — here 's a church

To hold a crowd at need, accommodate

All comers from the Corso! ^ If this crush

Make not its priests ashamed of what they show

For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse 10

And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out

The beggarly transept with its bit of apse

Into a decent space for Christian ease.

Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.

Listen and estimate the luck they've had! 15

(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this mom
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the lit^e marble balustrade ;

Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool 20

To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake ;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where, 25

But she took all her stabbings in the face.
Since punished thus solely for honor's sake.
Honoris causd, that 's the proper term.

1 Lorenzo in Lucina : a church in the * torso : the principal thoroughfare of
small square of San Lorenzo, opening out of Rome,
the Corso. Founded in the fifth century,
rebuilt by Paul V. 1606.

HALF-ROME. 35

A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,

When you avenge your honor and only then, 30

That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,

Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.

It was Violante gave the first offence.

Got therefore the conspicuous punishment :

While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death 35

Answered the purpose, so his face went free.

We fancied even, free as you please, that face

Showed itself still intolerably wronged ;

Was wrinkled over with resentment ye^

Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use, 40

Once the worst ended : an indi|;nant air

O' the head there was — 't is said the body turned

Round and away, rolled from Violante^s side

Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.

If so, if corpses can be sensitive, 45

Whv did not he roll right down altar-step.

Roll on through nave, roll feirly out of church,

Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,

Pav back thus the succession of affronts

Wnereto this church had served as theatre? 50

For see : at that same altar where he lies,

To that same inch of step, was brought the babe

For blessing after baptism, and there styled

Pompilia, and a string of names beside.

By his bad wife, some seventeen years ago, 55

Who purchased her simply to palm on him,

Flatter his dotage and defraud the heirs.

Wait awhile! Also to this very step

Did this Violante, twelve years afterward.

Bring, the mock-mother, that child-cheat full-grown, 60

Pompilia, in pursuance of her plot.

And there brave God and man a second time

By linking a new victim to the lie.

There, having made a match unknown to him,

She, still unknown to Pietro, tied the knot 65

Which nothing cuts except this kind of knife ;

Yes, made her daughter, as the girl was held.

Marry a man, and honest man beside,

And man of birth to boot, — clandestinely

Because of this, because of that, because 70

O' the devil's will to work his worst for once, —

Confident she could top her part at need

And, when her husband must be told in turn.

Ply the wife's trade, play off the sex's trick

And, alternating worry with quiet qualms, 75

Bravado with submissivenesS; pr^ttUy fool

36 THE RING AND THE BOOK, .

Her Pietro into patience : so it proved.

Ay, 't is four years since man and wife they grew,

This Guido Franceschini and this same

Pompilia, foolishly thought, falsely declared 80

A Comparini and the couple's child :

Just at this altar where, beneath the piece

Of Master Guido Reni,^ Christ on cross,^

Second to naught observable in Rome,

That couple lie now, murdered yestereve. 85

Even the blind can see a providence here.

From dawn till now that it is growing dusk,

A multitude has flocked and fuled the church,

Coming and going, coming back again.

Till to count crazed one. Rome was at the show. 90

People climbed up the columns, fought for spikes

O' the chapel-rail to perch themselves upon,

Jumped over and so broke the wooden work

Painted like porphyry to deceive the eye ;

Serve the priests right ! The orean-loft was crammed, 95

Women were fainting, no few fights ensued,

In short, it was a show repaid your pains :

For, though their room was scant undoubtedly,

Yet they did manage matters, to be just,

A little at this Lorenzo. Body o^ me! 100

I saw a body exposed once . . . never mind!

Enough that here the bodies had their due.

No stinginess in wax, a row all round.

And one big taper at each head and foot.

So, people pushed their way, and took their turn, 105

Saw, threw their eyes up, crossed themselves, gave place

To pressure from behind, since all the world

Knew the old pair, could talk the tragedy

Over from first to last : Pompilia too,

Those who had known her — what 't was worth to them! no

Guido's acquaintance was in less request ;

The Count had lounged somewhat too long in Rome,

Made himself cheap ; with him were hand and glove

Barbers and blear-eyed, as the ancient' sings.

Also he is alive and like to be : 115

Had he considerately died, — aha!

I jostled Luca Cini on his staff,

1 Guido Rent: a painter of the Bolognese » The ancient : Horace (" Satires " i. 7, 3,
school (1574-1643). " Omnibus et lippis notum et tonsoribus ").

* Christ on Cross : represents the Cruci-
^on seen against a wild^ stormy sky.

HALF^ROME. 37

Mute in the midst, the whole man one amaze^

Staring amain and crossing brow and breast.

"How now?" asked I. "'T is seventy years," quoth he, 120

" Since I first saw, holding my father^s hand,

Bodies set forth : a many nave I seen.

Yet all was poor to this I live and see.

Here the world^s wickedness seals up the sum :

What with Molinos^ ^ doctrine and this deed, 125

Antichrist surely comes and doomsday ^s near.

May I depart in peace, I have seen my see."

" Depart then," I advised, " nor block the road

For voungsters still behindhand with such sights!"

" Wny no," rejoins the venerable sire, 130

" I know it 's horrid, hideous past belief.

Burdensome far beyond what eye can bear ;

But they do promise, when Pompilia dies

r the course o' the day, — and she can't outlive night, —

They '11 bring her body also to expose 135

Beside the parents, one, two, three abreast ;

That were indeed a sight, which might I see,

I trust I should not last to see the like ! "

Whereat I bade the senior spare his shanks.

Since doctors give her till to-night to live, 140

And tell us how the butchery happened. " Ah,

But you can't know! " sighs he, " I '11 not despair :

Beside I 'm useful at explaining things —

As, how the dagger laid there at the feet.

Caused the pecuHar cuts ; I mind its make, 145

Triangular i' the blade, a Genoese,

Armed with those little hook-teeth on the edge

To open in the flesh nor shut again :

I like to teach a novice : I shall stay! "

And stay he did, and stay be sure he will. 150

A personage came by the private door

At noon to have his look : I name nq names :

Well then, His Eminence the Cardinal,

Whose servitor in honorable sort

Guido was once, the same who made the match, 155

(Will you have the truth ?) whereof we see effect.

No sooner whisper ran he was arrived

Than up pops Curate Carlo, a brisk lad.

Who never lets a good occasion slip.

And volunteers improving the event. 160

We looked he 'd give the history's self some help,

Treat us to how the wife's confession went

< Molinos* doctrine : see note, I. 303.

38 THE Rmc AND THE BOOK.

(This morning she confessed her crime, we know)

And, maybe, throw in something of the Priest —

If he 's not ordered back, punished an^w, 165

The gallant, Caponsacchi, Lucifer

r the garden where Pompilia, Eve-like, lured

Her Adam Guido to his fault and fall.

Think you we got a sprig of speech akin

To this from Carlo, with the Cardinal there? 170

Too wary he was, too widely awake, I trow.

He did the murder in a dozen words ;

Then said that all such outrages crop forth

r the course of nature when Molinos^ tares

Are sown for wheat, flourish and choke the Church : 175

So slid on to the abominable sect

And the philosophic sin — we Ve heard all that.

And the Cardinal too, (who book-made on the same)^

But, for the murder, left it where he found.

Oh but he ^s quick, the Curate, minds his game! 180

And, after all, we have the main o' the fact :

Case could not well be simpler, — mapped, as it were,

We follow the murder's maze from source to sea,

By the red line, past mistake : one sees indeed

Not only how all was and must have been, 185

But cannot other than be to the end of time.

Turn out here by the Ruspoli ! ^ Do you hold

Guido was so prodigiously to blame ?

A certain cousin of yours has told you so ?

Exactly! Here 's a friend shall set you right, 190

Let him but have the handsel' of your ear.

These wretched Comparini were once gay
And galliard,^ of the modest middle class :
• Bom in this quarter seventy years ago

And married young, they lived the accustomed life, 195

Citizens as they were of good repute :

And, childless, naturally took their ease

With only their two selves to care about

And use the wealth for : wealthy is the word,

Since Pietro was possessed of house and land — 200

And specially one house, when good days smiled,

In Via Vittoria, the aspectable street

Where he lived mainly ; but another house

Of less pretension did he buy betimes.

The villa, meant for jaunts and jollity, 205

1 Cardinal y who hook-made on the same : * Ruspoli : palace on the Corso.
two or three books on the teachings of Molinos ' Handsel : first gift,
were written by Cardinal d'Estr^s. * Galliard : brisk, active.

HALF^ROME. 39

r the Pauline district, to be private there —

Just what puts murder in an enemy^s iiead.

Moreover, — here 's the worm i' the core, the germ

O' the rottenness and ruin which arrived, —

He owned some usufruct, had moneys^ use 210

Lifelong, but to determine with his life

In heirs^ default : so, Pietro craved an heir,

(The story always old and always new)

Shut his fooPs-eyes fast on the visible good

And wealth for certain, opened them owl-wide 215

On fortune^s sole piece of forgetfidness.

The child that should have been and would not be.

Hence, seventeen years ago, conceive his glee

When first Violante, ^twixt a smile and blush,

With touch of agitation proper too, 220

Announced that, spite of her unpromising age,

The miracle would in time be manifest.

An heir^s birth was to happen : and it did.

Somehow or other, — how, all in good time!

By a trick, a sleight of hand you are to hear, — 225

A child was bom, Pompilia, for his joy.

Plaything at once and prop, a fairy-gift,

A saints^ ^ce or, say, grant of the good God, —

A fiddle-pm's end! What imbeciles are we!

Look now : if some one could have prophesied, 230

" For love of you, for likine to your wife,

I undertake to crush a snake I spy

Settling itself i' the soft of both your breasts.

Give me yon babe to strangle pamlessly!

She '11 soar to the safe : you '11 have your crying out, 235

Then sleep, then wake, then sleep, then end your days

In peace and plenty, mixed with mild regret.

Thirty years hence when Christmas takes old folk" —

How had old Pietro sprung up, crossed himself.

And kicked the conjurer! Whereas you and I, 240

Being wise with after-wit, had clapped our hands ;

Nay, added, in the old fool's interest,

" Strangle the black-eyed babe, so far so good,

But on condition you relieve the man

O' the wife and throttle him Violante too — 245

She is* the mischief! "

We had hit the mark.
She, whose trick had brought the babe into the world,
She it was, when the babe was grown a girl.
Judged a new trick should reinforce the old.
Send vigor to the lie now somewhat spent 250

40 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

By twelve years' service ; lest Eve's rule decline

Over this Adam of hers, whose cabbage-plot

Throve dubiously since turned fools'-paradise,

Spite of a nightingale on every stump.

Pietro's estate was dwindling day bv day, 255

While he, rapt far above such mundane care^

Crawled all-fours with his baby pick-a-back,

Sat at serene cats'-cradle with his child,

Or took the measured tallness, top to toe,

Of what was grown a great girl twelve years old : 260

Till sudden at the door a tap discreet,

A visitor's premonitory cou^h.

And poverty had reached him in her rounds.

This came when he was past the working-time,

Had learned to dandle and forgot to dig, 265

And who must but Violante cast about.

Contrive and task that head of hers again?

She who had caught one fish, could make that catch

A bigger still, in angler's policy :

So, with an angler's mercy for the bait, 270

Her minnow was set wriggling on its barb

And tossed to mid-stream ; wnich means, this grown girl

With the great eyes and bounty of black hair

And first crisp youth that tempts a jaded taste.

Was whisked i' the way of a certain man, who snapped. 275

Count Guido Franceschini the Aretine ^

Was head of an old noble house enough,

Not over-rich, you can't have everything.

But such a man as riches rub against.

Readily stick to, — one with a right to them 280

Born in the blood : 't was in his very brow

Always to knit itself against the world.

Beforehand so, when that world stinted due

Service and suit : the world ducks and defers.

As such folks do, he had come up to Rome 285

To better his fortune, and, since many years,

Was friend and follower of a cardinal ;

Waiting the rather thus on providence

That a shrewd younger poorer brother yet,

The Abate Paolo, a regular priest, 290

Had long since tried his powers and found he swam

With the deftest on the Galilean pool :

But then he was a web-foot, free o' the wave,

And no ambiguous dab-chick ^ hatched to strut,

> A retine : native of Arezto. * Dab<htck : a small-sized grebe, a genus

HALF-ROME. 41

Humbled by any fond attempt to swim 295

When fiercer fowl usurped his dunghill top —

A whole priest, Paolo, no mere piece of one

Like Guido tacked thus to the Churches tail!^

Guido moreover, as the head o^ the house,

Claiming the main prize, not the lesser luck, 300

The centre lily, no mere chickweed fringe.

He waited and learned waiting, thirty years ;

Got promise, missed performance — what would you have?

No petty post rewards a nobleman

For spending youth in splendid lackey-work, 305

And there 's concurrence for each rarer prize ;

When that falls, rougher hand and readier foot

Push aside Guido spite of his black looks.

The end was, Guido, when the warning showed.

The first white hair i^ the glass, gave up the game, 310

Determined on returning to his town.

Making the best of bad incurable.

Patching the old palace up and lingering there

The customary life* out with his kin.

Where honor helps to spice the scanty bread. 315

Just as he trimmed his lamp and girt his loins

To go his journey and be wise at home.

In the right mood of disappointed worth,
I Who but Violante sudden spied her prey
• (Where was I with that angler-simile ? ) 320

And threw her bait, Pompilia, where he sulked —

A gleam i' the gloom!

What if he gained thus much.
Wrung out this sweet drop from the bitter Past,
Bore off this rose-bud from the prickly brake
To justify such torn clothes and scratched hands, 325

And, after all, brought something back from Rome?
Would not a wife serve at Arezzo well
To light the dark house, lend a look of youth
To the mother's face grown meagre, left alone
And famished with the emptiness of hope, ' 330

Old Donna Beatrice ? Wife you want
Would you play family-representative.
Carry you elder-brotherly, high and right
O'er what may prove the natural petulance

of diving birds, frequenting rivers and fresh- ing's use of the allusion appears to be at fault

water lakes. Its movements on land are here.

ungainly, but it swims gracefully. Brown- ^ CA«rMV tot'/; see note, I.. a6ow

42 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Of the third brother, younger, greedier still, 335

Girolamo, also a fledgeling priest,

Beginning life in turn with callow beak

Agape for luck, no luck had stopped and stilled.

Such were the pinks and grays about the bait

Persuaded Guido gulp down hook and all. 340

What constituted him so choice a catch.
You question? Past his prime and poor beside!
Ask that of any she who knows the trade.
Why first, here was a nobleman with friends,
A palace one might run to and be safe 345

When presently the threatened fate should fall,
A big-browed master to block doorway up,
' Parley with people bent on pushing by
And praying the mild Pietro quick clear scores :
Is birth a privilege and power or no ? 350

Also, — but jud^e of the result desired,
Bv the price paid and manner of the sale.
The Count was made woo, win and wed at once :
Asked, and was haled for answer, iest the heat
Should cool, to San Lorenzo, one blind eve, 355

And had Pompilia put into his arms
O' the sly there, by a hasty candle-blink.
With sanction of some priest-confederate
Properly paid to make short work and sure.

So did old Pietro^s daughter change her style 360

For Guido Franceschini's lady-wire

Ere Guido knew it well ; and why this haste

And scramble and indecent secrecy?

" Lest Pietro, all the while in ignorance.

Should get to learn, gainsay and break the match : 365

His peevishness had promptly put aside

Such honor and refused the proffered boon,

Pleased to become authoritative once.

She remedied the wilful man's mistake — "

Did our discreet Violante. Rather say, 370

Thus did she, lest the object of her game,

Guido the gulled one, give him but a chance,

A moment's respite, time for thinking twice.

Might count the cost before he sold himself.

And try the clink of coin they paid him with. 375

But coin paid, bargain struck and business done,
Once the clandestine marriage over thus.
All parties made perforce the best o' the fact ;
Pietro could play vast indignation pff^

HALF-ROME. 43

Be ignorant and astounded, dupe, poor soul, 380

Please you, of daughter, wife and son-in-law,

While Guido found himself in flagrant fault.

Must e^en do suit and service, soothe, subdue

A father not unreasonably chafed.

Bring him to terms by paying son^s devoir. 385

Pleasant initiation!

The end, this :
Guidons broad back was saddled to bear all —
Pietro, Violante, and Pompilia too, —
Three lots cast confidently in one lap.

Three dead-weiehts with one arm to lift the three 390

Out of their limbo up to life again.
The Roman household was to strike fresh root
In a new soil, graced with a novel name.
Gilt with an alien glory, Aretine

Henceforth and never Roman any more, 395

By treaty and engagement ; thus it ran :
Pompilia's dowry for Pompilia^s self
As a thing of course, — she paid her own expense ;
No loss nor gain there : but the couple, you see,
They, for their part, turned over first of all 400

Their fortune in its rags and rottenness
To Guido, fusion and confusion, he
And his with them and theirs, — whatever rag
With coin residuary fell on floor

When Brother Paolo's energetic shake 405

Should do the relics justice : since 't was thought.
Once vulnerable Pietro out of reach,
That, left at Rome as representative,
The Abate, backed by a potent patron here,
And otherwise with purple flushmg him, 410

Might play a good game with the creditor,
M^e up a moiety which, great or small.
Should go to the common stock — if anything,
Guido's, so far repayment of the cost

About to be, — and if, as looked more like, 415

Nothing, — why, ull the nobler cost were his
Who guaranteed, for better or for worse.
To Pietro and Violante, house and home.
Kith and kin, with the pick of company
And life o' the fat o' the land while life should last. 420

How say you to the bargain at first blush ?
Why did a middle-aged not-silly man
Show himself thus besotted all at once?
Quoth Solomon,^ one black eye does it all.

^ Quoth Solomon : Solomon's Song iv. 9.

44 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

They went to Arezzo, — Pietro and his spouse^ 425

With just the dusk o^ the day of life to spend.

Eager to use the twilight, taste a treat,

Enjoy for once with neither stay nor stint

The luxury of lord-and-lady-ship,

And realize the stuff and nonsense long 430

A-simmer in their noddles ; vent the fume

Born there and bred, the citizen's conceit

How fares nobility while crossing earth,

What rampart or invisible body-guard

Keeps off the taint of common life from such. 435

They had not fed for nothing on the tales

Of grandees who give banquets worthy Jove,

Spending gold as if Plutus ^ paid a whim,

Served with obeisances as when . . . what God?

I 'm at the end of my tether ; 't is enough 440

You understand what they came primed to see :

While Guido who should minister the sight.

Stay all this qualmish greediness of soul

With apples and with flagons — for his part.

Was set on life diverse as pole from pole : 445

Lust of the flesh, lust of the eye, — what else

Was he just now awake from, sick and sage.

After the very debauch they would begin ? —

Suppose such stuff and nonsense really were.

That bubble, they were bent on blowing big, 450

He had blown already till he burst his cheeks,

And hence found soapsuds bitter to the tongue.

He hoped now to walk softly all his days

In soberness of spirit, if haply so,

Pinching and paring he might furnish forth 455

A frugal board, bare sustenance, no more.

Till times, that could not well grow worse, should mend.

Thus minded then, two parties mean to meet

And make each other happy. The first week,

And fancy, strikes fact and explodes in full. 460

** This," shrieked the Comparini, *' this the Count,

The palace, the signorial privilege.

The pomp and pageantry were promised us?

For this have we exchanged our liberty,

Our competence, our darling of a child ? 465

To house as spectres in a sepulchre

Under this black stone-heap, the street's disgrace,

Grimmest as that is of the gruesome town.

And here pick garbage on a pewter plate

* Plutus : God of Wealth, son of Jasion and Ceres.

HALF-ROME, 45

Or cough at verjuice ^ dripped from earthenware? 470

Oh Via Vittoria, oh the other .place

P the Pauline, did we dve you up for this?

Where 's the foregone housekeeping good and gay,

The neighborliness, the companionship,

The treat and feast when holidays came round, 475

The daily feast that seemed no treat at all,

Called common by the uncommon fools we were!

Even the sun that used to shine at Rome,

Where is it ? Robbed and starved and frozen too,

We will have justice, justice if there be ! " 480

Did not they shout, did not the town resound!

Guidons old lady-mother Beatrice,

Who since her husband. Count Tommaso^s death.

Had held sole sway i' the house, — the doited * crone

Slow to acknowledge, curtsey and abdicate, — 485

Was recognized of true novercal • type.

Dragon and devil. His brother Girolamo

Came next in order : priest was he? The worse!

No way of winning him to leave his mumps

And help the laugh against old ancestry 490

And formal habits long since out of date.

Letting his youth be patterned on the mode

Approved of where Violante laid down law.

Or did he brighten up by way of change,

Dispose himself for anability? 495

The malapert, too complaisant by half

To the alarmed young novice of a bride!

Let him go buzz, betake himself elsewhere

Nor singe his fly-wings in the candle-flame!

Four months' probation of this purgatory, 500

Dog-snap and cat-claw, curse and counterblast^

The devil's self were sick of his own din ;

And Pietro, after trumpeting huge wrongs

At church and market-place, pillar and post,

Square's comer, street's end, now the palace-step 505

And now the wine-house bench — whUe, on her side,

Violante up and down was voluble

In whatsoever pair of ears would perk

From goody, gossip, cater-cousin * and sib,*

Curious to peep at the inside of things 510

^ K<r^»ttr#.* juice of sour apples or unripe * Novercal : in the manner of a step'
grapes. mother.

* Doited: adjective finnned from doit, a * Cater-cousin : a cousin within die first
Scotch coin ot small Talue = worthless. four degrees of kindred.

* Sii : a blood relation.

46 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And catch in the act pretentious poverty

At its wits^ end to keep appearance up,

Make both ends meet, — nothing the vulgar loves

Like what this couple pitched them right and left.

Then, their worst done that way, both struck tent, marched : 515

— Renounced their share o^ the bargain, flung what dues

Guido was bound to pay, in Guidons face.

Left their hearts'-darling, treasure of the twain

And so forth, the poor inexperienced bride,

To her own devices, bade Arezzo rot, 520

Cursed life signorial, and sought Rome once more.

I see the comment ready on your lip,

" The better fortune, Guido's — free at least

By this defection of the foolish pair.

He could begin make profit in some sort 525

Of the ^oung bride and the new quietness.

Lead his own life now, henceforth breathe unplagued/*

Could he? You know the sex like Guido's self.

Learn the Violante-nature!

Once in Rome,
By way of helping Guido lead such life, 530

Her first act to inaugurate return
Was, she got pricked in conscience : Jubilee ^
Gave her the hint. Our Pope, as kind as just^
Attained his eighty years, announced a boon
Should make us bless the fact, held Jubilee — 535

Short shrift, prompt pardon for the light offence
And no rough dealing with the regular crime
So this occasion were not suffered slip —
Otherwise, sins commuted as before.

Without the least abatement in the price. 540

Now, who had thought it ? All this while, it seems,
Our sage Violante had a sin of a sort
She must compound for now or not at all.
Now be the ready riddance! She confessed
Pompilia was a fable not a fact : 545

She never bore a child in her whole life.
Had this child been a changeling, that were grace
In some degree, exchange is hardly theft,
You take your stand on truth ere leap your lie :
Here was all lie, no touch of truth at all, 550

All the lie hers — not even Pietro guessed
He was as childless still as twelve years since.
The babe had been a find i' the filth-heap. Sir,

* yubilet : held every twenty-fifth year.

HALF-ROME. 47

Catch from the kennel I There was found at Rome^

Down in the deepest of our social dregs, 555

A woman who professed the wanton^s trade

Under the requisite thin coverture,

Communis meretrix and washer-wife :

The creature thus conditioned found by chance

Motherhood like a jewel in the muck, 560

And straightway either trafficked with her prize

Or listened to the tempter and let be, —

Made pact abolishing her place and part

In womankind, beast-fellowship indeed.

She sold this babe eight months before its birth 565

To our Violante, Pietro's honest spouse.

Well-famed and widely-instanced as that crown

To the husband, virtue in a woman^s shape.

She it was, bought, paid for, passed off the thing

As very flesh and blood and child of her 570

Despite the flagrant fifty years, — and why?

Partly to please old Pietro, fill his cup

With wine at the late hour when lees are left,

And send him from life's feast rejoicingly, —

Partly to cheat the rightful heirs, agape, 575

Each uncle's cousin's brother's son ot him,

For that same principal of the usufruct ^

It vext him he must die and leave behind.

Such was the sin had come to be confessed.

Which of the tales, the first or last, was true? 580

Did she so sin once, or, confessing now.

Sin for the first time? Either way you will.

One sees a reason for the cheat : one sees

A reason for a cheat in owning cheat

Where no cheat had been. What of the revenge? 585

What prompted the contrition all at once.

Made the avowal easy, the shame slight?

Why, prove they but Pompilia not their child.

No child, no dowry! this, supposed their child.

Had claimed what this, shown alien to their blood, 590

Claimed nowise : Guido's claim was throufi^h his wife,

Null then and void with hers. The biter bit,

Do you see! For such repayment of the past,

One might conceive the penitential pair

Ready to bring their case before the courts, 595

^ Principal of the usufruct : 'i.i. the principal sum, in which Pietro had only a life-
interest or usufruct.

48 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Publish their infamy to all the world

And, arm in arm, go chuckling thence content.

Is this your view ? 'T was Guidons anyhow

And colorable : he came forward then,

Protested in his very bride's behalf 600

Against this lie and all it led to, least

Of all the loss o' the dowry ; no! From her

And him alike he would expunge the blot,

Erase the brand of such a bestial birth.

Participate in no hideous heritage 605

Gathered from the gutter to be garnered up

And glorified in a palace. Peter and Paul!

But that who likes may look upon the pair

Exposed in yonder church, and show his skill

By saying which is eye and which is mouth 610

Thro' those stabs thick and threefold, — but for that —

A strong word on the liars and their lie

Might crave expression and obtain it, Sir!

— Though prematurely, since there's more to come,

More that will shake your confidence in things 615

Your cousin tells you, — may I be so bold?

This makes the first act of the farce, — anon

The sombre element comes stealing in

Till all is black or blood-red in the piece.

Guido, thus made a laughing-stock abroad, 620

A proverb for the market-place at home.

Left alone with Pompilia now, this graft

So reputable on his ancient stock,

This plague-seed set to fester his sound fiesh.

What does the Count? Revenge him on his wife? 625

Unfasten at all risks to rid himself

The noisome lazar-badge, fall foul of fate,

And, careless whether the poor rag was 'ware

O' the part it played, or helped unwittingly,

Bid it go burn and leave his frayed fiesh free? 630

Plainly, did Guido open both doors wide,

Spurn thence the cur-cast creature and clear scores

A!s man might, tempted in extreme like this ?

No, birth and breeding, and compassion too

Saved her such scandS. She was young, he thought, 635

Not privy to the treason, punished most

r the proclamation of it ; why make her

A party to the crime she suffered by ?

Then the black eyes were now her very own,

Not any more Violante's : let her live, 640

HALF-ROME. 49

Lose in a new air, under a new sun,
The taint of the imputed parentage
Truly or falsely, take no more the touch
Of Pietro and his partner anyhow !
All might go well yet.

So she thought, herself^ 645

It seems, since what was her first act and deed
When news came how these kindly ones at Rome
Had stripped her naked to amuse the world
With spots here, spots there and spots everywhere ?
— For I should tell you that they noised abroad 650

'Not merely the main scandal of her birth,
But slanders written, printed, published wide.
Pamphlets which set forth all the pleasantry
Of how the promised glory was a dream.
The power a bubble, and the wealth — why, dust. 655

There was a picture, painted to the life.
Of those rare doings, that superlative
Initiation in magnificence
Conferred on a poor Roman family

By favor of Arezzo and her first 660

And famousest, the Franceschini there.
You had the Countship holding head aloft
Bravely although bespattered, shifts and straits
In keeping out o' the way o' the wheels o' the world,
The comic of those home-contrivances 665

When the old lady-mother^s wit was taxed
To find six clamorous mouths in food more real
Than fruit plucked off the cobwebbed family-tree.
Or acorns shed from its gilt mouldered frame —
Cold glories served up with stale fame for sauce. 670

What, I ask, — when the drunkenness of hate
Hiccuped return for hospitality.
Befouled the table they had feasted on,
Or say, — God knows I '11 not prejudge the case, —
Grievances thus distorted, magnified, 675

Colored by quarrel into calumny, —
What side did our Pompilia first espouse?
Her first deliberate measure was — she wrote.
Pricked by some loyal impulse, straight to Rome
And her husband's brother the Abate there, 680

Who, having managed to effect the match.
Might take men's censure for its ill success.
She made a clean breast also in her turn.
And qualified the couple properly.

Since whose departure, hell, she said, was heaven, 685

And the house, late distracted by their peals,

B

50 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Quiet as Carmel ^ where the lilies live.

Herself had oftentimes complained : but why?

All her complaints had been their prompting, tales

Trumped up, devices to this very end. 690

Their game had been to thwart her husband^s love

And cross his will, malign his words and ways.

To reach this issue, furnish this pretence

For impudent withdrawal from their bond, —

Theft, indeed murder, since they meant no less 695

Whose last injunction to her simple self

Had been — what parents'-precept do you think?

That she should follow after with all speed.

Fly from her husband^s house clandestinely,

Jom them at Rome again, but first of all 700

Pick up a fresh companion in her flight.

So putting youth and beauty to fit use, —

Some gay dare-devil cloak-and-rapier spark

Capable of adventure, — helped by whom

She, some fine eve when lutes were in the air, 705

Having put poison in the posset *-cup.

Laid hands on money, jewels and the like,

And, to conceal the thing with more effect,

By way of parting benediction too,

Fired the house, — one would finish famously 710

r the tumult, slip out, scurry off and away

And turn up merrily at home once more.

Fact this, and not a dream o^ the devil, Sir!

And more than this, a fact none dare dispute.

Word for word, such a letter did she write, 715

And such the Abate read, nor simply read

But gave all Rome to ruminate upon,

In answer to such charges as, I say.

The couple sought to be beforehand with.

The cause thus carried to the courts at Rome, 720

Guido away, the Abate had no choice

But stand forth, take his absent brother^s part.

Defend the honor of himself beside.

He made what head he might against the pair,

Maintained Pompilia^s birth legitimate 725

And all her rights intact — hers, Guido's now :

And so far by his policy turned their flank,

(The enemy being beforehand in the place)

That, — though the courts allowed the cheat for fact,

> Carmel : Mount Cannel in Syria, where * Pottti : a drink made of milk and wiiMb
the Carmelite order of mendicant monks was
said to be established. They wore white.

HALF-ROME. 51

Suffered Violante to parade her shame, 730

Publish her infamy to hearths content,

And let the tale o^ the feigned birth pass for proved, —

Yet they stopped there, refused to intervene

And dispossess the innocents, befooled

By gifts o' the guilty, at guilt^s new caprice. 735

They would not take away the dowry now

Wrongfully given at first, nor bar at all

Succession to the aforesaid usufruct.

Established on a fraud, nor play the game

Of Pietro^s child and now not Pietro's chUd 740

As it might suit the gamester^s purpose. Thus

Was justice ever ridiculed in Rome :

Such be the double verdicts favored here

Which send away both parties to a suit

Nor puffed up nor cast down, — for each a crumb 745

Of right, for neither of them the whole loaf.

Whence, on the Comparini's part, appeal —

Counter-appeal on Guidons, — that 's the game :

And so the matter stands, even to this hour.

Bandied as balls are in a tennis-court, 750

And so might stand, unless some heart broke first.

Till doomsday.

Leave it thus, and now revert
To the old Arezzo whence we moved to Rome.
We Ve had enough o' the parents, false or true,
Now for a touch o^ the daughter's quality. 755

The start 's fair henceforth, every obstacle
Out of the young wife's footpath, she 's alone.
Left to walk warily now : how does she walk ?
Why, once a dwelling's threshold marked and crossed
In rubric by the enemy on his rounds 760

As eligible, as fit place of prey.
Baffle nim henceforth, keep him out who can!
Stop up the door at the first hint of hoof.
Presently at the window taps a horn.

And Satan 's by your fireside, never fear! 765

Pompilia, left alone now, found herself;
Found herself young too, sprightly, fair enough.
Matched with a husband old beyond his age
(Though that was something like four times her own)
Because of cares past, present and to come : 770

Found too the house dull and its inmates dead,
So, looked outside for light and life.

And love
Did in a trice turn up with life and light, —
The man with the aureole, sympathy made flesh,

52 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

The all-consoling Caponsacchi, Sir! • 775

A priest — what else should the consoler be?

With goodly shoulderblade and proper leg,

A portly make and a symmetric shape,

And curls that clustered to the tonsure quite.

This was a bishop in the bud, and now 780

A canon full-blown so far : priest, and priest

Nowise exorbitantly overworked.

The courtly Christian, not so much Saint Paul

As a saint of Caesar's household : there posed he

Sending his god-glance after his shot shaft, 785

Apollos turned Apollo, while the snake

Pompilia writhed transfixed through all her spires.

He, not a visitor at Guidons house.

Scarce an acquaintance, but in prime request

With the magnates of Arezzo, was seen here, 790

Heard there, felt everywhere in Guido's path

If Guidons wife's path be her husband's too.

Now he threw comfits at the theatre

Into her lap, — what harm in Carnival?

Now he pressed close till his foot touched her gown, 795

His hand brushed hers, — how help on promenade?

And, ever on .weighty business, found his steps

Incline to a certain haunt of doubtful fame

Which fronted Guido's palace by mere chance ;

While — how do accidents sometimes combine! — 800

Pompilia chose to cloister up her charms

Just in a chamber that o'erlooked the street.

Sat there to pray, or peep thence at mankind.

This passage of arms and wits amused the town.

At last the husband lifted eyebrow, — bent 805

On day-book and the study how to wring

Half the due vintage from the worn-out vines

At the villa, tease a quarter the old rent

From the farmstead, tenants swore would tumble soon, —

Pricked up his ear a-singing day and night 810

With " ruin, ruin ; " — and so surprised at last —

Why, what else but a titter? Up he jumps.

Back to mind come those scratchings at the grange,

Prints of the paw about the outhouse ; rife

In his head at once again are word and wink, 815

Mum here and budget ^ there, the smell o' the fox,

The musk o' the gallant. "Friends, there's falseness here! "

The proper help of friends in such a strait
^Mum, Budget : see Shakespeare, " Meny Whres of Windsor," V. U. 7.

HALF^ROME. 53

Is waggery, the world over. Laugh him free

O^ the reeular jealous-fit that ^s incident 820

To all old husbands that wed brisk young wives,

And he ^11 go duly docile all his days.

" Somebody courts your wife, Count? Where and when?

How and why? Mere horn-madness : have a care!

Your lady loves her own room, sticks to it, 825

Locks herself in for hours, you say yourself.

And — what, it ^s Caponsacchi means you harm ?

The Canon ? We caress him, he 's the world's,

A man of such acceptance — never dream.

Though he were fifty times the fox you fear, 830

He 'd risk his brush for vour particular chick.

When the wide town 's nis hen-roost! Fie o' the fool! "

So they dispensed their comfort of a kind.

Guido at last cried " Something is in the air,

Under the earth, some plot against my peace 835

The trouble of eclipse hangs overhead ;

How it should come of that officious orb

Your Canon in my system, you must say :

I say — that from the pressure of this spring

Began the chime and interchange of bells, 840

Ever one whisper, and one whisper more,

And just one whisper for the silvery last,

Till all at once a-row the bronze-throats burst

Into a larum both significant

And sinister : stop it I must and will. 845

Let Caponsacchi take his hand away

From the wire! — disport himself in other paths

Than lead precisely to my palace-^te. —

Look where he likes except one window's way

Where, cheek on hand, and elbow set on sill, 850

Happens to lean and say her litanies

Every day and all day long, just my wife —

Or wife and Caponsacchi may fare the worse! "

Admire the man's simplicity, " I '11 do this,

I '11 not have that, I '11 punish and prevent! " — 855

'T is easy saying. But to a fray, you see.

Two parties go. The badger shows his teeth :

The fox nor lies down sheep-like nor dares fight.

Oh, the wife knew the appropriate warfare well,

The way to put suspicion to the blush ! 860

At first hint of remonstrance, up and out

I' the face of the world, you found her : she could speak.

State her case, — Franceschini was a name,

Guido had his full share of foes and friends —

Why should not she call these to arbitrate? 865

54 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

She bade the Governor do governance,

Cried out on the Archbishop, — why, there now,

Take him for sample! Three successive times.

Had he to reconduct her by main-force

From where she took her station opposite 870

His shut door, — on the public steps thereto,

Wringing her hands, when he came out to see,

And shrieking all her wrongs forth at his foot, —

Back to the husband and the house she fled :

Judge if that husband warmed him in the face 875

Of mends or frowned on foes as heretofore!

Judge if he missed the natural grin of folk,

Or lacked the customary compliment

Of cap and bells, the luckless husband^s fit!

So it went on and on till — who was right? 880

One merry April morning, Guido woke

After the cuckoo, so late, near noonday,

With an inordinate yawning of the jaws.

Ears plugged, eyes gummed together, palate, tongue

And teeth one mud-paste made of poppy-milk ; 885

And found his wife Aown, his scritoire the worse

For a rummage, — jewelry that was, was not.

Some money there had made itself wings too, —

The door lay wide and yet the servants slept

Sound as the dead, or dosed which does as well. 890

In short, Pompilia, she who, candid soul.

Had not so much as spoken all her life

To the Canon, nay, so much as peeped at him

Between her fingers while she prayed in church, —

This lamb-like innocent of fifteen years 895

(Such she was grown to by this time of day)

Had simply put an opiate m the drink

Of the whole household overnight, and then

Got up and gone about her work secure.

Laid hand on this waif and the other stray, 900

Spoiled the Philistine and marched out of doors

In company of the Canon who, Lord^s love,

What with his daily duty at the church.

Nightly devoir where ladies congregate.

Had something else to mind, assure yourself, 905

Beside Pompilia, paragon though she be.

Or notice if her nose were sharp or blunt !

Well, anyhow, albeit impossible.

Both of them were together jollily

Jaunting it Rome-ward, half-way there by this, 910

While Guido was left go and get undrugged,

HALF-ROME. J5

Gather his wits up, groaningly eive thanks
When neighbors crowded round him to condole.

'* Ah," quoth a gossip, " well I mind me now,

The Count did always say he thought he felt 915

He feared as if this very chance might fall !

And when a man of fifty finds his corns

Ache and his joints throb, and foresees a storm.

Though neighbors laugh and say the sky is clear.

Let us henceforth believe him weatherwise ! " 920

Then was the story told, I '11 cut jrou short :

All neighbors knew : no mystery m the world.

The lovers left at nightfall — over night

Had Caponsacchi come to carry off

Pompilia, — not alone, a friend of his, 925

One Guillichini, the more conversant

With Guido's housekeeping that he was just

A cousin of Guido's and might play a prank —

(Have not you too a cousin that 's a wag? )

— Lord and a Canon also, — what would you have? 930

Such are the red-clothed milk-swollen poppy-heads

That stand and stiffen 'mid the wheat o' the Church ! —

This worthy came to aid, abet his best.

And so the house was ransacked, booty bagged.

The lady led downstairs and out of doors 935

Guided and guarded till, the city passed,

A carriage lay convenient at the gate.

Good-bye to the friendly Canon ; the loving one

Could peradventure do the rest himself.

In jumps Pompilia, after her the priest, 940

"Whip, driver! Money makes the mare to go,

And we Ve a bagful. Take the Roman road!"

So said the neighbors. This was eight hours since.

Guido heard all, swore the befitting oaths.

Shook off the relics of his poison-drench, 945

Got horse, was fairly started in pursuit

With never a friend to follow, found the track

Fast enough, 't was the straight Perugia way.

Trod soon upon their very heels, too late

By a minute only at Camoscia, reached 950

Chiusi, Foligno, ever the fugitives

Just ahead, just out as he galloped in,

Getting the good news ever fresh and fresh,

Till, lo, at the last stage of all, last post

Before Rome, — as we say, in sight of Rome 955

And safety (there 's impunity at Rome

For priests, you know) at — what 's the little place? —

56 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

What some call Castelnuovo, some just call

The Osteria,^ because o' the post-house inn,

There, at the journey's all but end, it seems, 960

Triumph deceived them and undid them both,

Secure they might foretaste felicity

Nor fear surprisal : so, they were surprised.

There did they halt at early evening, there

Did Guido overtake them : \ was day-break ; 965

He came in time enough, not time too much,

Since in the courtyard stood the Canon^s self

Urging the drowsy stable-grooms to haste

Harness the horses, have the journey end.

The trifling four-hours'-running, so reach Rome. 970

And the other runaway, the wife? Upstairs,

Still on the couch where she had spent the night,

One couch in one room, and one room for both.

So gained they six hours, so were lost thereby.

Sir, what 's the sequel ? Lover and beloved 975

Fall on their knees? No impudence serves here?

They beat their breasts and beg for easy death,

Confess this, that and the other? — anyhow

Confess there wanted not some likelihood

To the supposition so preposterous, 980

That, O Pompilia, thy sequestered eyes

Had noticed, straying o'er the prayerbook's edge,

More of the Canon than that black his coat.

Buckled his shoes were, broad his hat of brim :

And that, O Canon, thy religious care 985

Had breathed too soft a benedicite

To banish trouble from a lady's breast

So lonely and so lovely, nor so lean!

This you expect? Indeed, then, much you err.

Not to such ordinary end as this 990

Had Caponsacchi flung the cassock far.

Doffed the priest, donned the perfect cavalier.

The die was cast : over shoes over boots :

And just as she, I presently shall show,

Pompilia, soon looked Helen to the life, 995

Recumbent upstairs in her pink and white.

So, in the inn-yard, bold as 't were Troy-town,

There strutted Paris in correct costume.

Cloak, cap and feather, no appointment missed,

Even to a wicked-looking sword at side, 1000

He seemed to find and feel familiar at.

Nor wanted words as ready and as big

* Orteriu : a taTern or imi.

HALF-ROME. 57

As the part he played, the bold abashless one.

" I interposed to save your wife from death,

Yourself from shame, the true and only shame : 1005

Ask your own conscience else ! — or, failing that,

What I have done I answer, anywhere.

Here, if you will ; you see I have a sword :

Or, since I have a tonsure as you taunt,

At Rome, by all means, — priests to try a priest. loio

Only, speak where your wife's voice can reply! **

And then he fingered at the sword aeain.

So, Guido called, in aid and witness both.

The Public Force. The Commissary came,

Officers also ; they secured the priest ; 1015

Then, for his more confusion, mounted up

With him, a guard on either side, the stair

To the bed-room where still slept or feigned a sleep

His paramour and Guidons wife : in burst

The company and bade her wake and rise. 1020

Her defence? This. She woke, saw, sprang upright

r the midst and stood as terrible as truth,

Sprang to her husband's side, caught at the sword

Tnat hung there useless, — since tney held each hand

O' the lover, had disarmed him properly, — 1025

And in a moment out fiew the bright thing

Full in the face of Guido : but for help

O' the guards who held her back and pinioned her

With pains enough, she had finished you my tale

With a flourish of red all round it, pinked her man 1030

Prettily ; but she fought them one to six.

They stopped that, — but her tongue continued free :

She spat forth such invective at her spouse,

O'erfrothed him with such foam of murderer,

Thief, pandar — that the popular tide soon turned^ 1035

The favor of the verv sbirri^ straight

Ebbed from the husband, set toward his wife.

People cried " Hands off, pay a priest respect! "

And " persecuting fiend " and " martyred saint "

Began to lead a measure from lip to lip. 1040

But fieicts are facts and flinch not ; stubborn things.

And the question " Prithee, friend, how comes my purse

r the poke of jy^ou ? " — admits of no reply.

Here was a pnest found out in masquerade,

A wife caught playing truant if no more ; 1045

* Sbirri: papal police.

58 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

While the Count, mortified in mien enough.

And, nose to face, an added palm in length,

Was plain writ " husband " every piece of him :

Capture once made, release could hardly be.

Beside, the prisoners both made appeal, 1050

** Take us to Rome! "

Taken to Rome they were ;
The husband trooping after, piteously.
Tail between legs, no talk of triumph now —
No honor set firm on its feet once more
On two dead bodies of the guilty, — nay, 1055

No dubious salve to honor's broken pate
From chance that, after all, the hurt might seem .
A skin-deep matter, scratch that leaves no scar :
For Guido's first search, — ferreting, poor soul,
Here, there and everywhere in the vile place 1060

Abandoned to him when their backs were turned,
Found, — furnishing a last and best regale, —
All the love-letters bandied 'twixt the pair
Since the first timid trembling into life

O' the love-star till its stand at fiery fiill. 1065

Mad prose, mad verse, fears, hopes, triumph, despair.
Avowal, disclaimer, plans, dates, names, — was nought
Wanting to prove, if proof consoles at all.
That this had been but the fifth act o' the piece
Whereof the due proemium, months ago 1070

These playwrights had put forth, and ever since
Matured the middle, added 'neath his nose.
He might go cross himself: the case was clear.

Therefore to Rome with the clear case ; there plead

Each party its best, and leave law do each right, 1075

Let law shine forth and show, as God in heaven,

Vice prostrate, virtue pedestalled at last.

The triumph of truth! What else shall glad our gaze

When once authority has knit the brow

And set the brain behind it to decide 1080

Between the wolf and sheep turned litigants ?

"This is indeed a business!" law shook head:

" A husband charges hard things on a wife.

The wife as hard o' the husband : whose fault here?

A wife that flies her husband's house, does wrong: 1085

The male friend's interference looks amiss.

Lends a suspicion : but suppose the wife.

On the other hand, be jeopardized at home —

Nay, that she simply hold, ill-groundedly,

An apprehension she is jeopardized, — 1090

And further, if the friend partake the fear^

HALF-ROME. 59

And, in a commendable charitv

Which tnisteth all, trust her that she mistrusts, —

What do they but obey law — niatural law?

Pretence may this be and a cloak for sin, 1095

And circumstances that concur i^ the close

Hint as much, loudly — yet scarce loud enough

To drown the answer * strange may yet be true : '

Innocence often looks like guiltiness.

The accused declare that in thought, word and deed, 11 00

Innocent were they both from first to last

As male-babe haply laid by female-babe

At church on edge of the baptismal font

Together for a minute, perfect-pure.

Difficult to believe, yet possible, 1 105

As witness Joseph, the friend's patron-saint.

The night at the inn — there charity nigh chokes

Ere swallow what they both asseverate ;

Though down the gullet faith may feel it go.

When mindful of what fiight fatigued the flesh mo

Out of its faculty and fleshliness.

Subdued it to the soul, as saints assure :

So long a flight necessitates a fall

On the first bed, though in a lion^s den.

And the first pillow, though the lion's back : 1 1 15

Difficult to believe, yet possible.

Last come the letters! bundled beastliness —

Authority repugns ^ give glance to — nay,

Turns head, and almost lets her whip-lash fall ;

Yet here a voice cries * Respite ! ' from the clouds — 1 120

The accused, both in a tale, protest, disclaim,

Abominate the horror : * Not my hand '

Asserts the friend — * Nor mine ' chimes in the wife,

* Seeing I have no hand, nor write at all.'

Illiterate — for she goes- on to ask, 1 1 25

What if the friend did pen now verse now prose.

Commend it to her notice now and then.?

T was pearls to swine : she read no more than wrote.

And kept no more than read, for as they fell

She ever brushed the burr-like things away, 11 30

Or, better, burned them, quenched the fire in smoke.

As for this fardel,^ filth and foolishness.

She sees it now the first time : bum it too !

While for his part the friend vows ignorance

Alike of what bears his name and bears hers : 1 135

'T is forgery, a felon's masterpiece,

And, as 't is said the fox still finds the stench,

* Reigns : opposes. * Fardel : bundle.

6o THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Home-manufacture and the husband^s work.

Though he confesses, the ingenuous friend^

That certain missives, letters of a sort, 1 140

Flighty and feeble, which assigned themselves

To the wife, no less have fallen, far too oft.

In his path : wherefrom he understood just this —

That were they verily the lady's own,

Why, she who penned them, since he never saw 1145

Save for one minute the mere face of her.

Since never had there been the interchange

Of word with word between them all their life,

Why, she must be the fondest of the frail.

And fit, she for the ^apage'' ^ he flung, 1150

Her letters for the flame they went to feed!

But, now he sees her face and hears her speech,

Much he repents him if, in fancy-freak

For a moment the minutest measurable.

He coupled her with the first flimsy word 1155

O' the self-spun fabric some mean spider-soul

Furnished forth : stop his films and stamp on him I

Never was such a tangled knottiness.

But thus authority cuts the Gordian through,

And mark how her decision suits the need! 1160

Here 's troublesomeness, scandal on both sides,

Plenty of fault to find, no absolute crime :

Let each side own its fault and make amends !

What does a priest in cavalier's attire

Consorting publicly with vagrant wives 1165

In quarters close as the confessional.

Though innocent of harm ? 'T is harm enough :

Let him pay it, — say, be relegate a good

Three years, to spend in some place not too for

Nor yet too near, midway Hwixt near and far, 1 170

Rome and Arezzo, — Civita we choose.

Where he may lounge away time, live at large.

Find out the proper fimction of a priest, .

Nowise an exile, — that were punishment, —

But one our love thus keeps out of harm's way 1175

Not more from the husband's anger than, mayhap

His own . . . say, indiscretion, waywardness.

And wanderings when Easter eves grow warm.

For the wife, — well, our best step to take with her,

On her own showing, were to shift her root 11 80

From the old cold shade and unhappy soil

Into a generous ground that fronts the south

Where, since her callow soul, a-shiver late,

* Apage : away with thee.

HALF-ROME, 6i

Craved simply warmth and called mere passers-by

To the rescue, she should have her fill of shine. 1 185

Do house and husband hinder and not help?

Why then, forget both and stay here at peace,

Come into our community, enroll

Herself along with those good Convertites,*

Those sinners saved, those Maedalens re-made, 11 90

Accept their ministration, well bestow

Her body and patiently possess her soul.

Until we see what better can be done.

Last for the husband : if his tale prove true.

Well is he rid of two domestic plagues — 1 195

Both wife that ailed, do whatsoever he would.

And friend of hers that undertook the cure.

See, what a double load we lift from breast! ^

Off he may go, return, resume old life.

Laugh at the priest here and Pompilia there 1200

In limbo each and punished for their pains,

And grateful tell the inquiring neighborhood —

In Rome, no wrong but has its remedy."

The case was closed. Now, am I feir or no

In what I utter? Do I state the facts, 1205

Having forechosen a side? I promised you!

The Canon Caponsacchi, then, was sent

To change his garb, re-trim his tonsure, tie

The clerkly silk round, every plait correct.

Make the impressive entry on his place 12 10

Of rele^tion, thrill his Civita,

As Ovid,* a like sufferer in the cause.

Planted a primrose-patch by Pontus : where, —

What with much culture of the sonnet-stave

And converse with the aborigines, 12 15

Soft savagery of eyes unused to roll

And hearts that all awry went pit-a-pat

And wanted setting right in charity, —

What were a couple 01 years to while away?

Pompilia, as enjoined, betook herself 1220

To the aforesaid Convertites, soft sisterhood

In Via Lungara, where the light ones live.

Spin, pray, then sing like linnets o'er the flax.

" Anywhere, anyhow, out of my husband's house

Is heaven," cried she, — was therefore suited so. 1225

But for Count Guido Franceschini, he —

* Convertites : an order of nuns devoted • Ovid^ a like sufferer : he was banished
to the rescue of others who* like themselves, by Augustus to Tomis, on the Euxine Sea,
have fallen. for some amour or imprudence.

62 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

The injured man thus righted — found no heaven

r the house when he returned there, I engage,

Was welcomed by the city turned upside down

In a chorus of inquiry. "What, back — you? 1230

And no wife ? Left her with the Penitents ?

Ah, being young and pretty, 't were a shame

To have her whipped in public : leave the job

To the priests who understand ! Such priests as yours —

(Pontifex Maximus whipped Vestals once)* 1235

Our madcap Caponsacchi : think of him!

So, he fired up, showed fight and skill offence?

Ay, you drew sdso, but you did not fight !

The wiser, \ is a word and a blow with him.

True Caponsacchi, of old Head-i'-the-Sack ^ 1240

That fought at Fiesole ere Florence was :

He had done enough, to firk* you were too much.

And did the little lady menace you,

Make at your breast with your own harmless sword?

The spitfire! Well, thank God you're safe and sound, 1245

Have kept the sixth commandment whether or no

The lady broke the seventh : I only wish

I were as saint-like, could contain me so.

I, the poor sinner, fear I should have left

Sir Priest no nose-tip to turn up at me! " 1250

You, Sir, who listen but interpose no word.

Ask yourself, had you borne a baiting thus ?

Was it enough to make a wise man mad ?

Oh, but I '11 nave your verdict at the end !

Well, not enough, it seems : such mere hurt falls, 1255

Frets awhile, aches long, then grows less and less,

And so gets done with. Such was not the scheme

O' the pleasant Comparini : on Guido's wound

Ever in due succession, drop by drop.

Came slow distilment from the alembic here 1260

Set on to simmer by Canidian hate,*

Corrosives keeping the man's misery raw.

First fire-drop, — when he thought to make the best

O' the bad, to wring from out the sentence passed,

Poor, pitiful, absurd although it were, 1265

Yet what might eke him out result enough

* Pontifix Maximus : in ancient Rome, > Firk : chastise.

any Vestal Virgin who let the sacred fire go * Canidian hate : Canidia was a Neapoli-

out was scourged by the Pontifex Maximus. tan beloved by Horace. When she deserted

* Caponsacchi : in English, Head C the him, he held her up to contempt as an old
Sack. The family is mentioned in Dante's witch*

Paradise, XVI.

HALF-ROME. 6^

And make it worth while to have had the right

And not the wrong i^ the matter judged at Rome.

Inadequate her punishment, no less

Punished in some slight sort his wife had been ; 1270

Then, punished for adultery, what else?

On such admitted crime he thought to seize,

And institute procedure in the courts

Which cut corruption of this kind from man,

Cast loose a wife proved loose and castaway : 1275

He claimed in due form a divorce at least.

This claim was met now by a counterclaim :
Pompilia sought divorce from bed and board
Of Guido, whose outrageous cruelty,

Whose mother^s malice and whose brother^s hate 1280

Were just the white o^ the charee, such dreadful depths
Blackened its centre, — hints of worse than hate,
/ Love from that brother, by that Guidons guile.
That mother^s prompting. Such reply was made,
So was the engine loaded, wound up, sprung 1285

On Guido, who received bolt full in breast ;
But no less bore up, giddil}^ perhaps.
He had the Abate Paolo still in Rome,
Brother and friend and fighter on his side :
They rallied in a measure, met the foe 1290

Manlike, joined battle in the public courts,
As if to shame supine law from her sloth :
And waiting her award, let beat the while
Arezzo's banter, Rome's buffoonery.

On this ear and on that ear, deaf alike, 1295

Safe from worse outrage. Let a scorpion nip.
And never mind till he contorts his tail !
But there was sting i' the creature ; thus it struck.
Guido had thought in his simplicity —

That lying declaration of remorse, 1300

That story of the child which was no child
And motherhood no motherhood at all,
— That even this sin might have its sort of good
Inasmuch as no question more could be, —
Call it felse, call the story true, — no claim 1305

Of further parentage pretended now :
The parents had ^jured all right, at least,
V the woman owned his wife : to plead right still
Were to declare the abjuration false :

He was relieved from any fear henceforth 1 3 10

Their hands might touch, their breath defile again
Pompilia with his name upon her yet.
Well; no : the next news was, Pompilia's health

64 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Demanded change after full three long weeks

Spent in devotion with the Sisterhood, — 13 15

Which rendered sojourn, — so the court opined, —

Too irksome, since the convent^s walls were high

And windows narrow, nor was air enough

Nor light enough, but all looked prison-like.

The last thing which had come into the court^s head. 1320

Propose a new expedient therefore, — this!

She had demanded — had obtained indeed,

By intervention of her pitying friends

Or perhaps lovers — (beauty in distress,

Beauty whose tale is the town-talk beside, 1325

Never lacks friendship's arm about her neck) —

Obtained remission of the penalty.

Permitted transfer to some private place

Where better air, more light, new food might soothe —

Incarcerated (call it, all the same) 1330

At some sure friend^s house she must keep inside,

Be found in at requirement fast enough, —

Domus pro career e^ in Roman style.

You keep the house i^ the main, as most men do

And all good women : but free otherwise, 1335

Should mends arrive, to lodge them and what not ?

And such a domum^ such a dwelling-place,

Having all Rome to choose from, where chose she ?

What house obtained Pompilia's preference?

Why, just the Comparini's — just, do you mark, 1340

Theirs who renounced all part and lot in her

So long as Guido could be robbed thereby.

And only fell back on relationship

And found their daughter safe and sound again

When that might surelier stab him : yes, the pair 1345

Who, as I told you, first had baited hook

With this poor gilded fly Pompilia-thing,

Then caught the fish, pulled Guido to the shore

And gutted him, — now found afiirther use

For the bait, would trail the gauze wings yet again 1350

r the way of what new swimmer passed their stand.

They took Pompilia to their hiding-place —

Not in the heart of Rome as formerly.

Under observance, subject to control —

But out o' the way, — or in the way, who knows? 1355

That blind mute villa lurking by the gate

At Via Paulina, not so hard to miss

By the honest eye, easy enough to find

In twilight by marauders : where perchance

* Domus Pro car cere : a house for a prison.

HALF'ROME. 65

Some muffled Caponsacchi might repair, 1360

Employ odd moments when he too tried change.
Found that a Mend^s abode was pleasanter
Than relegation, penance and the rest.

Come, here ^s the last drop does its worst to wound

Here 's Guido poisoned to the bone, you say 1365

Your boasted still ^s full strain and strength : not so!

One master-squeeze from screw shall bring to birth

The hoard i' the heart o' the toad,* hell's quintessence.

He learned the true convenience of the change,

And why a convent lacks the cheerful hearts 1370

And helpful hands which female straits require.

When, in the blind mute villa by the gate,

Pompilia — what? sang, danced, saw company?

— Gave birth. Sir, to a child, his son and heir.

Or Guidons heir and Caponsacchi^s son. 1375

I want your word now : what do you say to this ?

What would say little Arezzo ancl ^eat Rome,

And what did God say and the devil say

One at each ear o^ the main, the husband, now

The father? Why, the overburdened mind 1380

Broke down, what was a brain became a blaze.

In fiiry of the moment — (that first news

Fell on the Count among his vines, it seems.

Doing his farm-work,) — why, he summoned steward.

Called in the first four hard hands and stout hearts 1385

From field and furrow, poured forth his appeal.

Not to Rome's law and gospel any more,

But this clown with a mother or a wife,

That clodpole with a sister or a son :

And, whereas law and gospel held their peace, 1390

What wonder if the sticks and stones cried out ?

All five soon somehow found themselves at Rome,

At the villa door : there was the warmth and light —

The sense of life so just an inch inside —

Some angel must have whispered " one more chance ! " 1395

He gave it : bade the othess stand aside :

Knocked at the door, — "Who is it knocks?" cried one.

" I will make," surely Guido's angel urged,

" One final essay, last experiment,

Speak the word, name the name from out all names 1400

' Hoard f the heart o* the toad : Fenton stelon, which, being used as rings, gives fore-
says, *' There is to be found in the heads of warning against venom. See "As You Like
old and great toads a stone they call borax or It," II. i. 15.

F

66 THE RING AND THE BOOIC,

Which, if, — as doubtless strong illusions are.

And strange disguisings whereby truth seems false,

And, since I am but man, I dare not do

God's work until assured I see with God, —

If I should bring my lips to breathe that name 1405

And they be innocent, — nay, by one mere touch

Of innocence redeemed from utter guilt, —

That name will bar the door and bid fate pass.

I will not say Mt is a messenger,

A neighbor, even a belated man, 14 10

Much less your husband's friend, your husband's self: '

At such appeal the door is bound to ope.

But I will say " — here 's rhetoric and to spare !

Why, Sir, the stumbling-block is cursed and kicked.

Block though it be ; the name that brought offence 141 5

Will bring offence : the burnt child dreads the fire

Although that fire feed on some taper-wick

Which never left the altar nor singed a fly :

And had a harmless man tripped you by chance, ^

How would you wait him, stand or step aside, 1420

When next you heard he rolled your way? Enough.

" Giuseppe Caponsacchi ! " Guido cried ;

And open flew the door: enough again.

Vengeance, you know, burst, like a mountain-wave

That holds a monster in it, over the house, 1425

And wiped its filthy four walls free at last

With a wash of hell-fire, -»- father, mother, wife,

Killed them all, bathed his name clean in their blood.

And, reeking so, was caught, his friends and he.

Haled hither and imprisoned yesternight 1430

O' the day all this was.

Now, Sir, tale is told.
Of how the old couple come to lie in state
Though hacked to pieces, — never, the expert say.
So thorough a study of stabbing — while the "wife
(Viper-like, very difficult to slay) 1435

Writhes still through every ring of her, poor wretch,
At the Hospital hard by — survives, we '11 hope,
To somewhat purify her putrid soul
By full confession, make so much amends
While time lasts ; since at day's end die she must. 1440

For Caponsacchi, — why, they '11 have him here,

As hero of the adventure, who so fit

To figure in the coming Carnival?

'T will make the fortune of whate'er saloon

HALF-ROME. 67

Hears him recount, with helpful cheek, and eye 1445

Hotly indignant now, now dewy-dimmed,

The incidents of flight, pursuit, surprise,

Capture, with hints of kisses all between —

While Guido, wholly unromantic spouse.

No longer fit to laugh at since the blood 1450

Gave the broad farce an all too brutal air,

Why, he and those four luckless friends of his

May tumble in the straw this bitter day —

Laid by the heels i^ the New Prison, I hear.

To bide their trial, since trial, and for the life, 1455

Follows if but for formes sake : yes, indeed!

But with a certain issue : no dispute,

" Try him," bids law : formalities oblige :

But as to the issue, — look me in the &ce! —

If the law thinks to find them ^ilty. Sir, 1460

Master or men — touch one hair of the five.

Then I say in the name of all that *s left

Of honor in Rome, civility i' the world

Whereof Rome boasts herself the central source, —

There ^s an end to all hope of justice more. 1465

Astraea^ 's gone indeed, let hope go too!

Who is it dares impugn the natural law,

Deny God's word " the faithless wife shall die "?

What, are we blind? How can we fail to learn

This crowd of miseries make the man a mark, 1470

Accumulate on one devoted head

For our example ? — yours and mine who read

Its lesson thus — " Henceforward let none dare

Stand, like a natural in the public way.

Letting the very urchins twitch his beard 1475

And tweak his nose, to earn a nickname so,

Be styled male-Grissel ^ or else modern Job! "

Had Guido, in the twinkling of an eye.

Summed up the reckoning, promptly paid himself.

That morning when he came up with the pair 1480

At the wayside inn, — exacted his just debt

By aid of what first mattock, pitchfork, axe

Came to hand in the helpful stable-yard,

And with that axe, if providence so pleased.

Cloven each head, by some Rolando-stroke,' 1485

^ Asiraa : virgin-goddess of justice, Chaucer's Clerk of Ozenford's tale, a type of

daughter of Zeus and Themis, who departed female patience.

from earth at the close of the golden age and > Rolando-stroke : Roland, the mediaeval

became the constellation Virgo. hero of romance.

^MaU-Grwil: Griselda, the heroine of

68 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

In one dean cut from crown to clavicle,^

— Slain the priest-eallant, the wife-paramour,

Sticking, for all defence, in each skulPs cleft

The rhyme and reason of the stroke thus dealt,

To-wit, those letters and last evidence 1490

Of shame, each package in its proper place, —

Bidding, who pitied, undistend the skulls, —

I say, tne world had praised the man. But no!

That were too plain, too straight, too simply just!

He hesitates, calls law forsooth to help. 1495

And law, distasteful to who calls in law

When honor is beforehand and would serve,

What wonder if law hesitate in turn.

Plead her disuse to calls o' the kind, reply

(Smiling a little) "T is yourself assess 1500

The worth of what 's lost, sum of damage done.

What you touched with so light a finger-tip.

You whose concern it was to grasp the thing,

Why must law gird herself and grapple with .?

Law, alien to the actor whose warm blood 1505

Asks heat from law whose veins run lukewarm milk, —

What you dealt lightly with, shall law make out

Heinous forsooth?"

Sir, what 's the good of law
In a case o^ the kind? None, as she all but says.
Call in law when a neighbor breaks your fence, 15 10

Cribs from your field, tampers with rent or lease.
Touches the purse or pocket, — but wooes your wife ?
No : take the old way trod when men were men !
Guido preferred the new path, — for his pains,
Stuck in a quagmire, floundered worse and worse 15 15

Until he managed somehow scramble back
Into the safe sure rutted road once more.
Revenged his own wrong like a gentleman.
Once back ^mid the familiar prints, no doubt
He made too rash amends for his first fault, 1520

Vaulted too loftily over what barred him late.
And lit i' the mire again, — the common chance,
The natural over-energy : the deed
Maladroit yields three deaths instead of one,
And one life left : for where 's the Canon's corpse? 1525

All which is the worse for Guido, but, be frank —
The better for you and me and all the world.
Husbands of wives, especially in Rome.
The thing is put right, in the old place, — ay,
The rod hangs on its nail behind the door, 1530

^ Clavicle : collar-bone.

HALF'RpfdE. 69

Fresh from the brine : a matter I commend

To the notice, during Carnival that ^s near,

Of a certain what Vhis-name and jackanapes

Somewhat too civil of eves with lute and song

About a house here, where I keep a wife. 1535

(You, being his cousin, may go tell him so.)

70 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

III.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME.

[That side of public opinion which is predisposed to take the weaker part and
to look beneath the more obvious motives for the deeper-seated causes of any occur-
rence is given expression in Book III. The "Other Half-Rome," therefore, be-
friends the suffering wife and her untitled foster-parents, detects the inconsistencies
of Guido's defence, and, in the interest of society at large, refuses to permit a hus-
band to constitute himself judge and executioner in his own case.]

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,

A fiower-like body, to frighten at a bruise 5

You 'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
. It seems that, when her husband struck her first, .
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So Ions; as to confess and be absolved ; 10

And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread, —
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke 15

She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue.
To snow her for a moment such things were, —
Or else, — as the Augustinian Brother thinks.
The friar who took confession from her lip, —
When a probationary soul that moved 20

From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs.
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes.
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God. 25
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son 30

From the^ sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And — with best smile of all reserved for him —

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 71

Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house. 35

Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Annans ^ where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o^ the bell, turn o^ the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last.
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence, 40

Too many by half, — complain the men of art, —
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit — justice must be done ;
. They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly, — a soul 45

To shrive ; 't was Brother Celestine^s own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
And go forth boasting of it and to boast. 50

Old Monna Baldi chatters like a jay.
Swears — but that, prematurely trundled out
Just as she felt the benefit beein.
The miracle was snapped up by somebody, —
Her palsied limb ^gan prick and promise life 55

At touch o^ the bedclothes merely, — how much more
Had she but brushed the body as she tried !
Cavalier Carlo* — well, there's some excuse
For him — Maratta who paints Virgins so —
He too must fee the porter and slip by 60

With pencil cut and paper squared, and straight
There was he figuring away at face :
" A lovelier face is not in Rome," cried he,
<< Shaped like a peacock's ^^^ the pure as pearl,
That hatches you anon a snow-white chick.'' 65

Then, oh that pair of eyes, that pendent hair,
Black this and black the other! Mighty fine —
But nobody cared ask to paint the same,
Nor grew a poet over hair and eyes

Four little years ago when, ask and have, 70

The woman who wakes all this rapture leaned
Flower-like from out her window long enough.
As much uncomplimented as uncropped
By comers and goers in Via Vittoria : eh ?
'T is just a flower's fate : past parterre we trip, 75

^ 5am/ ^nna'x.* the monastery in Rome painter (1635-1713) called "Carlo delle
where Vittoria Colonna also awaited death. Madonne,** on account of the great number
* Carh Maratta : celebrated Roman of pictures of the Virgin he painted.

7a THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Till peradventure someone plucks our sleeve —

" Yon blossom at the briar's end, that 's the rose

Two jealous people fought for yesterday

And killed each other : see, there 's undisturbed

A pretty pool at the root, of rival red! "• 80

Then cry we " Ah, the perfect paragon ! "

Then crave we "Just one keepsake-leaf for us!"

Truth lies between : there 's anyhow a child

Of seventeen years, whether a flower or weed,

Ruined : who did it shall account to Christ — 85

Having no pity on the harmless life

And gentle face and girlish form he found.

And thus flings back. Go practise if you please

With men and women : leave a child alone

For Christ's particular love's sake! — so I say. 90

Somebody, at the bedside, said much more,

Took on him to explain the secret cause

O' the crime : quoth he, " Such crimes are very rife,

Explode nor make us wonder now-a-days.

Seeing that Antichrist disseminates 95

That doctrine of the Philosophic Sin : *

Molinos' sect will soon make earth too hot!'^

"Nay," iproaned the Augustinian, "what's there new?

Crime will not fail to flare up from men's hearts

While hearts are men's and so born criminal ; 100

Which one fact, always old yet ever new.

Accounts for so much crime that, for my part,

Molinos may go whistle to the wind

That waits outside a certain church, you know!"

Though really it does seem as if she here, 105

Pompilia, living so and dying thus.

Has had undue experience how much crime

A heart can hatch. Why was she made to learn

— Not you, not I, not even Molinos' self —

What Guido Franceschini's heart could hold? no

Thus saintship is effected probably ;

No sparing saints the process ! — which the more

Tends to the reconciling us, no saints,

To sinnership, immunity and all.

For see now : Pietro and Violante's life 115

Till seventeen years ago, all Rome might note

* Philosophic Sin : Molinos Uught that " desires nothing, not even his own salTation;
soul in a state of perfect contemplation and fears nothing, not eren hell itself."

THE OTHER HALF^ROME. 73

And quote for happy — see the signs distinct

Of happiness as we yon Triton's ^ trump.

What could they be but happy? — balanced so,

Nor low i^ the social scale nor yet too high, 120

Nor poor nor richer than comports with ease,

Nor bright and envied, nor obscure and scorned.

Nor so young that their pleasures fell too thick,

Nor old past catching pleasure when it fell,

Nothine above, below the just degree, 125

All at the mean where joy's compotients mix.

So again, in the couple s very souls

You saw the adequate half with half to match.

Each havine and each lacking somewhat, both

MsJcing a whole that had all and lacked nought. 130

The round and sound, in whose composure just

The acquiescent and recipient side

Was Pietro's, and the stirring striving one

Violante's : both in union gave the due

Quietude, enterprise, craving and content, 135

Which go to bodily health and peace of mind.

But, as 't is said a body, rightly mixed,

Each element in equipoise, would last

Too long and live for ever, — accordingly

Holds a germ — sand-grain weight too much i' the scale — 140

Ordained to get predominance one day

And so bring all to ruin and release, —

Not otherwise a fetal germ lurked here :

" With mortals much must go, but something stays ;

Nothing will stay of our so happy selves." 145

Out of the very ripeness of life's core

A worm was bred — " Our life shall leave no fruit."

Enougfh of bliss, they thought, could bliss bear seed,

Yield its like, propagate a bliss in turn

And keep the kind up ; not supplant themselves 150

But put m evidence, record they were.

Show them, when done with, i' the shape of a child.

" 'T is in a child, man and wife grow complete.

One flesh : God says so : let him do his work ! "

Now, one reminder of this gnawing want, 155

One special prick o' the maggot at the core.
Always befell when, as the day came round,
A certain yearly sum, — our Pietro being.
As the long name runs, an usufructuary,^ —

> Ftfif 7'riV0if.*seenote,I.89o. The speaker * Usufructuary: a person who has the
is represented as being in the Piazza Barberini, use of the profits of a property.
near Bernini's fountain, composed of a Triton
supported by dolphins.

74 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Dropped in the common bag as interest l6o

Of money, his till death, not afterward,

Failing an heir : an heir would take and take^

A child of theirs be wealthy in their place

To nobody's hurt — the stranger else seized all.

Prosperity rolled river-like and stopped, 165

Making their mill go ; but when wheel wore ooty

The wave would find a space and sweep on free

And, half-a-mile off, grind some neighbor's corn.

Adam-like, Pietro sighed and said no more :

Eve saw the apple was fair and good to taste, 1 70

So, plucked it, having asked the snake advice.

She told her husband God was merciftil.

And his and her prayer granted at the last :

Let the old mill-stone moulder, — wheel unworn,

Quartz from the quarry, shot into the stream 1 75

Adroitly, as before should go bring grist —

Their house continued to them by an heir.

Their vacant heart replenished with a child.

We have her own confession at full length

Made in the first remorse : 't was Jubilee 180

Pealed in the ear o' the conscience and it woke.

She found she had offended God no doubt.

So much was plain from what had happened since,

Misfortune on misfortune ; but she harmed

No one i' the world, so far as she could see. 185

The act had gladdened Pietro to the height,

Her spouse whom God himself must gladden so

Or not at all : thus much seems probable

From the implicit faith, or rather say

Stupid credulity of the foolish man 190

Who swallowed such a tale nor strained a whit

Even at his wife's far-over-fifty years

Matching his sixty-and-under. Him she blessed ;

And as for doing any detriment

To the veritable heir, — whv, tell her first 195

Who was he? Which of all the hands held up

r the crowd, one day would gather round their gate,

Did she so wrong by intercepting thus

The ducat, spendthrift fortune thought to fling

For a scramble just to make the mob break shins ? 200

She kept it, saved them kicks and cuffs thereby.

While at the least one good work had she wrought,

Good, clearly and incontestably! Her cheat —

What was it to its subject, the child's self.

But charity and religion ? Seethegu-l! 905

A body most like — a soul too probably —

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 75

Doomed to death, such a double death as waits

The illicit offspring of a common trull,

Sure to resent and forthwith rid herself

Of a mere interruption to sin^s trade, 210

In the efficacious way old Tiber knows.

Was not so much proved by the ready sale

O^ the child, glad transfer of this irksome chance?

Well then, she had caught up this castaway :

This fragile ege, some careless wild bird dropped, 215

She had picked from where it waited the foot-fall.

And put m her own breast till forth broke finch

Able to sing God praise on mornings now.

What so excessive harm was done ? — she asked.

To which demand the dreadful answer comes — 220

For that same deed, now at Lorenzo^s church,

Both agents, conscious and inconscious, lie ;

While she, the deed was done to benefit.

Lies also, the most lamentable of things,

Yonder where curious people count her breaths, 225

Calculate how long yet the little life

Unspilt may serve their turn nor spoil the show,

Give them their story, then the church its group.

Well, having gained Pompilia, the girl grew

V the midst of Pietro here, Violante there, 230

Each, like a semicircle with outstretched arms.

Joining the other round her preciousness —

Two walls that go about a garden-plot

Where a chance sliver, branchlet slipt from bole

Of some tongue-leaved eye-figured Eden tree,* 235

Filqhed by two exiles and borne far away.

Patiently glorifies their solitude, —

Year \y^ year mounting, grade by grade surmount

The builded brick-wonc, yet is compassed still.

Still hidden happily and shielded safe, — 240

Else why should miracle have graced the ground?

But on the twelfth sun that brought April there

What meant that laugh? The coping-stone was reached ;

Nay, above towered a light tuft of bloom

To be toyed with by butterfly or bee, 245

Done good to or else harm to from outside :

Pompuia^s root, stalk and a branch or two

Home enclosed still, the rest would be the world's.

All which was taught our couple though obtuse,

^ Tongue-Uaved eye-figured Eden tree : possibly a reference to some symbolic repre-
sentadcm of the tree of Eden.

^6 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Since walls have ears* when one day brought a priest, 250

Smooth-mannered soft-speeched sleek-cheeked visitor.

The notable Abate Paolo — known

As younger brother of a Tuscan house

Whereof the actual representative,

Count Guido, had employed his youth and age 255

In culture of Rome's most productive plant —

A cardinal : but years pass and change comes.

In token of which, here was our Paolo brought

To broach a weighty business. Might he 3peak?

Yes — to Violante somehow caught alone 260

While Pietro took his after-dinner doze,

And the young maiden, busily as befits.

Minded her broider-frame three chambers off.

So — giving now his great flap-hat a gloss

With flat o' the hand between-whiles, soothing now 265

The silk from out its creases o'er the calf.

Setting the stocking clerical again,

But never disengaging, once engaged,

The thin clear grey hold of his eyes on her —

He dissertated on that Tuscan house, 270

Those Franceschini, — very old they were —

Not rich however — oh, not rich, at least.

As people look to be who, low i' the scale

One way, have reason, rising all they can

By favor of the money-bag! 't is fair — 275

Do all gifts go together? But don't suppose

That being not so rich means all so poor!

Say rather, well enough — i' the way, indeed,

Ha, ha, to fortune better than the best :

Since if his brother's patron-friend kept faith, 280

Put into promised play the Cardinalate,

Their house might wear the red cloth that keeps warm.

Would but the Count have patience — there 's the point !

For he was slipping into years apace.

And years make men restless — they needs must spy 285

Some certainty, some sort of end assured.

Some sparkle, tho' from topmost beacon-tip.

That warrants life a harbor through the haze.

In short, call him fantastic as you choose,

Guido was home-sick, yearned for the old sights 290

And usual faces, — fain would settle himself

And have the patron's bounty when it fell

Irrigate far rather than deluge near.

Go fertilize Arezzo, not flood Rome.

Sooth to say, 't was the wiser wish : the Count 295

Proved wanting in ambition, — let us avouch.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME, TJ

Since truth is best, — in callousness of heart,

And winced at pin-pricks whereby honors hang

A ribbon o^er each puncture : his — no soul

Ecclesiastic (here the hat was brushed) 300

Humble but self-sustaining, calm and cold,

Having, as one who puts his hand to the plough,

Renounced the over-vivid £unily-feel —

Poor brother Guido ! All too plain, he pined

Amid Rome^s pomp and glare for dinginess 305

And that dilapidated palace-shell

Vast as a quarry and, very like, as bare —

Since to this comes old grandeur now-a-days —

Or that absurd wild villa in the waste

O^ the hill side, breezy though, for who likes air, 310

Vittiano, nor unpleasant witn its vines.

Outside the city and the summer heats.

And now his harping on this one tense chord

The villa and the psuace, palace this

And villa the other, all day and all night 315

Creaked like the implacable cicala^s cry

And made one^s ear drum ache : nougnt else would serve

But that, to light his mother^s visage up

With second youth, hope, gaiety a£;ain.

He must find straightway, woo and haply win 320

And bear away triumphant back, some wife.

Well now, the man was rational in his way :

He, the Abate, — ought he to interpose ?

Unless by straining still his tutelage

(Priesthood leaps over elder-brothership) 325

Across thb difficulty : then let go.

Leave the poor fellow in peace! Would that be wrong?

There was no making Guido great, it seems.

Spite of himself: then happy oe his dole!

Indeed, the Abaters little interest 330

Was somewhat nearly touched i^ the case, they saw :

Since if his simple kinsman so were bent,

Began his rounds in Rome to catch a wife,

FuU soon would such unworldliness surprise

The rare bird, sprinkle salt on phoenix^ tail, 335

And so secure the nest a sparrow-hawk.

No lack of mothers here in Rome, — no dread

Of daughters lured as larks by looking-glass! ^

The first name-peckine; credit-scratching fowl

Would drop her unfledged cuckoo in our nest 340

^ Lured as larks by lookiug-gltiss : refers posed to the sun, by their brightness attract
to a kind of trap mounted on a pivot and set larks and other birds,
with little pieces of looking-glass which, ex-

78 THE RING A^D THE BOOK.

To gather gre)mess there, give voice at length

And shame the brood . . . but it was long ago

When crusades were, and we sent eagles forth !

No, that at least the Abate could forestall.

He read the thought within his brother's word, 345

Knew what he purposed better than himself.

We want no name and fame — having our own :

No worldly aggrandizement — such we fly :

But if some wonder of a woman's-heart

Were yet untainted on this grimy earth, 350

Tender and true — tradition tells of such —

Prepared to pant in time and tune with ours —

If some good girl (a girl since she must take

The new bent, live new life, adopt new modes)

Not wealthy (Guido for his rank was poor) 355

But with whatever dowry came to hand, —

There were the lady-love predestinate!

And somehow the Abate's guardian eye —

Scintillant, rutilant,i fraternal fire, —

Roving round every way had seized the prize 360

— The instinct of us, we, the spiritualty !

Come, cards on table ; was it true or false

That here — here in this very tenement —

Yea, Via Vittoria did a marvel hide,

Lily of a maiden, white with intact leaf 365

Guessed thro' the sheath that saved it from the sun?

A daughter with the mother's hands still clasped

Over her head for fillet virginal,

A wife worth Guido's house and hand and heart?

He came to see ; had spoken, he could no less — 370

(A final cherish of the stockinged calf)

If harm were, — well, the matter was off his mind.

Then with the great air did he kiss, devout,

Violante's hand, and rise up his whole height

(A certain purple gleam about the black) 375

And go forth grandly, — as if the Pope came next.

And so Violante rubbed her eyes awhile.

Got up too, walked to wake her Pietro soon

And pour into his ear the mighty news

How somebody had somehow somewhere seen 380

Their tree-top-tuft of bloom upon the wall.

And came now to apprize them the tree's self

Was no such crab-sort as should go feed swine,

But veritable gold, the Hesperian ball ^

^ Rutilant : shining. which Hercules was required to fetch firom

* The Hesperian ball : the golden apple the garden of the Hesperides.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 79

Ordained for Hercules to haste and pluck, 385

And bear and give the Gods to banquet with —

Hercules stancung ready at the door.

Whereon did Pietro rub his eves in turn,

Look very wise, a little woeful too,

Then, periwig; on head, and cane in hand, 390

Sally forth dignifiedly into the Square

Of Spain ^ across Babbuino the six steps,

Toward the Boat-fountain where our idlers lounge, —

Ask, for formes sake, who Hercules mieht be.

And have congratulation from the world. 395

Heartily laughed the world in his foors-£u:e

And told him Hercules was just the heir

To the stubble once a corn-neld, and brick-heap

Where used to be a dwelling-place now burned.

Guido and Franceschini ; a Count, — ay : 400

But a cross ^ i^ the poke' to bless the Countship? No!

All gone except sloth, pride, rapacity.

Humors of the imposthume ^ incident

To rich blood that runs thin, — nursed to a head

By the rankly-salted soil — a cardinal^s court 405

Where, parasite and picker-up of crumbs,

He had hung on long, and now, let go, said some.

Shaken off, said others, — but in any case

Tired of the trade and something worse for wear,

Was wanting to change town for country quick, 410

Go home again : let Pietro help him home !

The brother. Abate Paolo, shrewder mouse.

Had pricked for comfortable quarters, inched

Into the core of Rome, and fiaittened so ;

But Guido, over-burly for rat's hole 415

Suited to clerical slimness, starved outside.

Must shift for himself: and so the shift was this!

What, was the snug retreat of Pietro tracked.

The little provision for his old age snuffed ?

'* Oh, make your girl a lady, an you list, 420

But have more mercy on our wit than vaunt

Your bargain as we ourgesses who brag!

Why, Goodman Dullard, if a friend must speak,

Would the Count, think you, stoop to you and yours

Were there the value of one penny-piece 425

1 The Square of Spain : the Piazza di found in Goldsmith, Dryden, Shakespeare,

Spagna, in the present " EngUsh quarter " of and others. It originated from money with a

Rome. The Via del Babbuino runs into it, cross stamped on it.
and the " Boat-fountain" (Fontana della Bar- ^ Poke : a pocket,
caccia) stands in it ^ Imposthume : abscess.

* Cross : ue. a coin; an old expression,

8o THE RING AND THE BOOK,

To rattle 'twixt his palms — or likelier laugh,
Bid your Pompilia nelp you black his shoe ? ^*

Home again, shaking oft the puzzled pate,

Went Pietro to announce a change indeed,

Yet point Violante where some solace lay 430

Of a rueful sort, — the taper, quenched so soon,

Had ended merely in a snuff, not stink —

Congratulate there was one hope the less

Not misery the more : and so an end.

The marriage thus impossible, the rest • 435

Followed : our spokesman, Paolo, heard his £cite,

Resignedly Count Guido bore the blow :

Violante wiped away the transient tear.

Renounced the playing Danae ^ to gold dreams.

Praised much her Pietro^s prompt sa^ciousness, 440

Found neighbors^ envy natuial, lightly laughed

At gossips' malice, fairly wrapped herself

In her integrity three folds about.

And, letting pass a little day or two,

Threw, even over that integrity, 445

Another wrappage, namely one thick veil

That hid her, matron-wise, from head to foot,

And, by the hand holding a girl veiled too,

Stood, one dim end of a December day.

In Saint Lorenzo on the altar-step — 450

Just where she lies now and that girl will lie —

Only with fifty candles' company

Now, in the place of the poor wmking one

Which saw, — doors shut and sacristan made sure, —

A priest — perhaps Abate Paolo — wed 455

Guido clandestinely, irrevocably

To his Pompilia aged thirteen years

And five months, — witness the church register, —

Pompilia, (thus become Count Guido's wife

Clandestinely, irrevocably his,) 460

Who all the while had borne, from first to last.

As brisk a part i' the bargain, as yon lamb.

Brought forth from basket and set out for sale,

Bears while they chaffer, wary market-man

And voluble housewife, o'er it, — each in turn 465

Patting^ the curly calm inconscious head.

With the shambles ready round the corner there.

When the talk 's talked out and a bargain struck.

> Danae : shut up in an underground chamber, she was visited by Jupiter disguised
a shower of gold.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 8i

Transfer complete, why, Pietro was apprised.

Violante sobbed the sobs and prayed tne prayers 470

And said the serpent tempted so she fell,

Till Pietro had to clear his brow apace

And make the best of matters : wrath at first, -^

How else ? pacification presently,

Why not ? — could flesh withstand the impurpled one, 475

The very Cardinal, Paolo's patron-friend ?

Who, justifiably surnamed "a hinge," ^

Knew where the mollifying oil should drop

To cure the break o' the valve, — considerate

For frailty, patient in a naughty world. 480

He even volunteered to supervise

The rough draught of those marriage-articles

Signed in a hurry by Pietro, since revoked :

Trust 's politic, suspicion does the harm.

There is but one way to brow-beat this world, 485

Dumb-founder doubt, and repay scorn in kind, —

To go on trusting, namely, tUl £aith move

Mountains.

And fEUth here made the mountains move.
Why, friends whose zeal cried "Caution ere too late! " —
Bade " Pause ere jump, with both feet joined, on slough! " — 490
Counselled " If rashness then, now temperance! " —
Heard for their pains that Pietro had closed eyes,
jumped and was in the middle of the mire.
Money and all, just what should sink a man.
By the mere marriage, Guido gained forthwith 495

Dowry, his wife's right ; no rescinding there :
But Pietro, why must he needs ratify
One gift Violante gave, pay down one doit ^
Promised in first roors-flurry? Grasp the bag
Lest the son's service flag, — is reason and rhyme, 500

Above all when the son 's a son-in-law.
Words to the wind ! The parents cast their lot
Into the lap o' the daughter : and the son
Now with a right to lie there, took what fell,
Pietro's whole having and holding, house and field, 505

Goods, chattels and effects, his worldly worth
Present and in perspective, all renounced
In favor of Guido. As for the usufruct —
The interest now, the principal anon,

Would Guido please to wait, at Pietro's death : 510

Till when, he must support the couple's charge,

^ A hinf^ : the title Cardinal is derived ' Doit: see note, II. 484.
from cardo, ** a hbge." ,

O

82 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Bear with them, housemates, pensionaries, pawned

To an alien for fulfilment of tneir pact.

Guido should at discretion deal them orts,^

Bread-bounty in Arezzo the strange place, — 515

They who had lived deliciously and rolled

Rome^s choicest comfit 'neath the tongue before.

Into this quag,^ "jump" bade the Cardinal!

And neckndeep in a minute there flounced they.

But they touched bottom at Arezzo : there — 520

Four months^ experience of how craft and greed

Quickened by penury and pretentious hate

Of plain truth, brutify and bestialize, —

Four months' taste of apportioned insolence,

Cruelty graduated, dose by dose 525

Of rumanism dealt out at bed and board.

And lo, the work was done, success clapped hands.

The starved, stripped, beaten brace of stupid dupes

Broke at last in their desperation loose.

Fled away for their lives, and lucky so ; 53O

Found their account in casting coat afar

And bearine off a shred of skin at least :

Left Guido lord o' the prey, as the lion is.

And, careless what came ^er, carried their wrongs

To Rome, — I nothing doubt, with such remorse 535

As folly feels, since pain can make it wise,

But crime, past wisdom, which is innocence,

Needs not be plagued with till a later day.

Pietro went back to beg from door to door,

In hope that memory not quite extinct 540

Of cheery days and festive nights would move

Friends and acquaintance — after the natural laugh.

And tributary " Just as we foretold — "

To show some bowels, give the dregs o' the cup,

Scraps of the trencher, to their host that was, 545

Or let him share the mat with the mastiflf, he

Who lived large and kept open house so long.

Not so Violante : ever a-head i' the march.

Quick at the bye-road and the cut-across.

She went first to the best adviser, God — 550

Whose fin^ger unmistakably was felt

In all this retribution of the past.

Here was the prize of sin, luck of a lie f

But here too was what Holy Year would help,

Bound to rid sinners of sin vulgar, sin 555

* d^Wf .• scrap$. * ^a^= quagmire.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 83

Abnormal, sin prodigious, up to sin

Impossible and supposed for Jubilee^ sake :

T.O lift the leadenest of lies, let soar

The soul unhampered by a feather-weight.

'' I will ^ said she ^' go bum out this bad hole 560

That breeds the scorpion, baulk the plague at least

Of hope to further plague by progeny :

I will confess my fault, be punished, yes,

But pardoned too : Saint Peter pays for all.^

So, with the crowd she mixed, made for the dome, 565

Through the great door * new-broken for the nonce

Marched, muffled more than ever matron-wise.

Up the left nave to the formidable throne.

Fell into file with this the poboner

And that the parricide, and reached in turn 570

The poor repugnant Penitentiary *

Set at this gully-hole o^ the world^s discharge

To help the frightfiillest of filth have vent.

And then knelt down and whispered in his ear

How she had bought Pompilia, palmed the babe 575

On Pietro, passed the girl off as their child

To Guido, and defrauded of his due

This one and that one, — more than she could name,

Until her solid piece of wickedness

Happened to split and spread woe far and wide : 580

Contritely now she brought the case for cure.

Replied the throne — " Ere God forgive the guilt.

Make man some restitution! Do your part!

The owners of your husband's heritage.

Barred thence by this pretended birth and heir, — 585

Tell them, the bar came so, is broken so.

Theirs be the due reversion as before!

Your husband who, no partner in the guilt.

Suffers the penalty, led blindfold thus

By love of what he thought his flesh and blood 590

To ^ienate his all in her behalf, —

Tell him too such contract is null and void!

Last, he who personates your son-in-law,

Who with seaded eyes and stopped ears, tame and mute,

"^ Great door: according to the special ness." The doors are then opened and sprin-

ntual, the Pope, at the commencement of kled with holy water, and the Pope passes

the Jubilee year, goes in solemn procession through. When the Jubilee closes, the door-

to a particular walled-up door (the Porta way is again built up.

Aurea, or golden door of St. Peter's) and ' Penitentiary : an officer in some cathc-

knocks three times, using the words of Psalm drals vested with power to absolve,
cxviii. 19. " Open to me the gates of righteous*

84 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Took at your hand that bastard of a whore 595

You called your daue^hter and he calls his wife, —
Tell him, and bear the anger which is just!
Then, penance so performed, may pardon be!"

Who could e;ainsay this just and right award?

Nobody in the world ; but, out o' the world, 600

Who knows ? — might timid intervention be

From any makeshift of an angel-guide,

Substitute for celestial guardianship.

Pretending to take care of the girl's self:

" Woman, confessing crime is healthy work, 605

And telling truth relieves a liar like you.

But how of my quite unconsidered charge ?

No thought if, while this good befalls yourself,

Aught in the way of harm may find out her? ^

No least thought, I assure you : truth being truth, 610

Tell it and shame the devil!

Said and done :
Home went Violante, disbosomed all :
And Pietro who, six months before, had borne
Word after word of such a piece of news
Like so much cold steel inched through his breast-blade, 615
Now at its entry gave a leap for joy,
As who — what did I say of one in a quag? —
Should catch a hand from heaven and spring thereby
Out of the mud, on ten toes stand once more.
" What ? All that used to be, may be again ? 620

My money mine again, my house, my land,
My chairs and tables, all mine evermore ?
What, the girl's dowry never was the girl's,
And, unpaid yet, is never now to pay?

Then the girl's self, my pale Pompilia child 625

That used to be my own with her great eyes —
He who drove us forth, why should he keep her
When proved as very a pauper as himself ?
Will she come back, with nothing changed at all.
And laugh * But how you dreamed uneasily! 630

I saw the great drops stand here on your brow —
Did I do wrong to wake you with a kiss ? '
No, indeed, darling! No, for wide awake
I see another outburst of surprise :

The lout-lord, bully-beggar, braggart-sneak, 635

Who not content with cutting purse, crops ear —
Assuredly it shall be salve to mine
When this great news red-letters him, the rogue!
Ay, let him taste the teeth o' the trap, this fox,
Give us our lamb back, golden fleece and all, 640

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 85

Let her creep in and warm our breasts again!

Why care for the past ? We three are our old selves,

And know now what the outside world is worth. ^^

And so, he carried case before the courts ;

And there Violante, blushing to the bone, 645

Made public declaration of her fault,

Renounced her motherhood, and prayed the law

To interpose, frustrate of its effect

Her folly, and redress the injury done.

Whereof was the disastrous consequence, 650

That though indisputably clear the case

TFor thirteen years are not so large a lapse.

And still six witnesses survived in Rome

To prove the truth o' the tale) — yet, patent wron^

Seemed Guidons ; the first cheat had chanced on him : 655

Here was the pity that, deciding right.

Those who began the wrong wouldgain the prize.

Guido pronounced the story one long lie

Lied to do robbery and take revenge :

Or say it were no lie at all but truth, 660

Then, it both robbed the right heirs and shamed him

Without revenge to humanize the deed :

What had he done when first they shamed him thus ?

But that were too fantastic : losels they,

And leasing this world^s-wonder of a he, 665

They lied to blot him though it brand themselves.

So answered Guido through the Abaters mouth.

Wherefore the court, its customary way,

Inclined to the middle course the sage affect.

They held the child to be a channeling, — good : 670

But, lest the husband got no good thereby,

They willed the dowry, though not hers at all.

Should yet be his, if not by right then grace —

Part-payment for the plain injustice done.

As for that other contract, Pietro's work, 675

Renunciation of his own estate,

That must be cancelled — give him back his gifts.

He was no party to the cheat at least!

So ran the judgment : — whence a prompt appeal

On both sides, seeing right is absolute. 680

Cried Pietro " Is the chUd no child of mine ?

Why give her a child's dowry? " — " Have I right

To the dowry, why not to the rest as well ? "

Cried Guido, or cried Paolo in his name :

Till law said ^ Reinvestigate the case ! '' 685

And so the matter pends, to this same day.

86 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Hence new disaster — here no outlet seemed;

Whatever the fortune of the battle-field,

No path whereby the fatal man might march

Victorious, wreath on head and spoils in hand, 690

And back turned full upon the baffled foe, —

Nor cranny whence, desperate and disgraced.

Stripped to the skin, he might be fain to crawl

Worm-like, and so away with his defeat

To other fortune and a novel prey. 695

No, he was pinned to the place there, left alone

With his immense hate and, the solitary

Subject to satisfy that hate, his wife.

" Cast her off ? Turn her naked out of doors ?

Easily said! But still the action pends, 700

Still dowry, principal and interest,

Pietro's possessions, all i bargained for, —

Any good day, be but my friends alert,

May give them me if she continue mine.

Yet, keep her? Keep the puppet of my foes — 705

Her voice that lisps me back their curse — her eye

They lend their leer of triumph to — her lip

I touch and taste their very filth upon ? "

In short, he also took the middle course

Rome taught him — did at Is&t excogitate 710

How he might keep the good and leave the bad

Twined in revenge, yet extricable, — nay

Make the very hate's eruption, very rush

Of the unpent sluice of cruelty relieve

His heart first, then go fertilize his field. 715

What if the girl-wife, tortured with due care.

Should take, as thoueh spontaneously, the road

It were impolitic to thrust her on ?

If, loaded, she broke out in full revolt.

Followed her parents i' the fece o' the world, 720

Branded as runaway not castaway.

Self-sentenced and self-punished in the act?

So should the loathed form and detested &ce

Launch themselves into hell and there be lost

While he looked o'er the brink with folded arms ; 725

So should the heaped-up shames go shuddering back

O' the head o' the heapers, Pietro and his wife.

And bury in the breakage three at once :

While Guido, left free, no one right renounced.

Gain present, gain prospective, all the gain, 730

None of the wife except her rights absorbed.

Should ask law what it was law paused about —

If law were dubious still whose word to take.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 87

The husband^s — dignified and derelict.

Or the wife's — the . . . what I tell you. It should be. 735

Guido's first step was to take pen, indite

A letter to the Abate, — not his own,

His wife's, — she should re-write, sign, seal and send.

She liberally told the household-news.

Rejoiced her vile progenitors were gone, 740

Revealed their malice — how they even laid

A last injunction on her, when they fled,

That she should forthwith find a paramour,

Complot with him to gather spoil enough.

Then bum the house down, — taking previous care 745

To poison all its inmates overnight, —

And so companioned, so provisioned too,

Follow to Rome and there join fortunes gay.

This letter, traced in pencil-characters,

Guido as easily got re-traced in ink 750

By his wife's pen, guided from end to end.

As if it had been just so much Chinese.

For why? That wife could broider, sing perhaps.

Pray certainly, but no more read than write

This letter "which yet write she must," he said, 755

" Bein^ half courtesy and compliment,

Half sisterliness : tauce the thing on trust! "

She had as readily re-traced the words

Of her own death-warrant, — in some sort Hwas so.

This letter the Abate in due course 760

Communicated to such curious souls

In Rome as needs must pry into the cause

Of quarrel, why the Comparini fled

The Franceschini, whence the grievance grew,

What the hubbub meant : " Nay, — see the wife's own word, 765

Authentic answer! Tell detractors too

There 's a plan formed, a programme figured here

— Pray God no after-practice put to proof,

This letter cast no light upon, one day ! "

So much for what should work in Rome : back now 770

To Arezzo, follow up the project there,

Forward the next step with as bold a foot.

And plague Pompilia to the height, you see!

Accordingly did Guido set himself

To worry up and down, across, around, 775

The woman, hemmed in by her household-bars, —

Chase her about the coop of daily life.

Having first stopped each outlet thence save one

Which, like bird with a ferret in her haunt,

88 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

She needs must seize as sole way of escape 780

Though there was tied and twittering a decoy

To seem as if it tempted, — just the plume

O^ the popinjay, not a real respite there

From tooth and claw of something in the daric, —

Giuseppe Caponsacchi.

Now begins 785

The tenebrific ^ passage of the tale :
How hold a light, display the cavem^s gorge?
How, in this phase of the afiair, show truth?
Here is the dying wife who smiles and says
" So it was, — so it was not, — how it was, 790

I never knew nor ever care to know — "
Till they all weep, physician, man of law,
Even that poor old bit of battered brass
Beaten out of all shape by the world^s sins,
Common utensil of the lazar-house — 795

Confessor Celestino groans " 'T is truth.
All truth and only truth : there 's something here,
Some presence in the room beside us all,
Something that every lie expires before :
No question she was pure from first to last/^ 800

So far is well and helps us to believe :
But beyond, she the helpless, simple-sweet
Or silly-sooth, unskilled to break one blow
At her good feme by putting finger forth, —
How can she render service to the truth ? 805

The bird says " So I fluttered where a springe
Caught me : the springe did not contrive itself,
That I know : who contrived it, God forgive! "
But we, who hear no voice and have dry eyes,
Must ask, — we cannot else, absolving ner, — 810

How of the part played by that same decoy
r the catching, caging? Was himself caught first?
We deal here with no innocent at least.
No witless victim, — he's a man of the age
And priest beside, — persuade the mockmg world 815

Mere charity boiled over in this sort!
He whose own safety too, — (the Pope's apprised —
Good-natured with the secular offence,
The Pope looks grave on priesthood in a scrape)
Our priest's own safety therefore, may-be life, 820

Hangs on the issue ! You will find it hard.
Guido is here to meet you with fixed foot.
Stiff like a statue — " Leave what went before I
My wife fled i' the company of a priest,

* Ttnthrfie : gloomy. '

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 89

Spent two days and two niehts alone with him : 825

Leave what came after! ^ He stands hard to throw.

Moreover priests are merely flesh and blood ;

When we get weakness, and no guilt beside,

T is no such great ill-fortune : finding grey,

We gladly call that white which mifht be black, 830

Too used to the double-dye. So, if the priest,

Moved by Pompilia^s youth and beauty, gave

Way to the natural weakness. . . . Anyhow

Here be £&cts, charactery ; ^ what they spell

Determine, and thence pick what sense you may ! 835

There was a certain voung bold handsome priest

Popular in the city, far and wide

Famed, since Arezzo^s but a little place.

As the best of good companions, &;ay and grave

At the decent minute ; settled in his stall, 840

Or sidling, lute on lap, by lady^s couch,

Ever the courtly Canon ; see in him

A proper star to climb and culminate.

Have its due handbreadth of the heaven at Rome,

Though meanwhile pausing on Arezzo^s edge, 845

As modest candle does ^mid mountain fog,

To rub off redness and rusticity

Ere it sweep chastened, gain the silver-sphere!

Whether through Guidons absence or what else.

This Caponsacchi, favorite of the town, 850

Was yet no friend of his nor free o^ the house.

Though both moved in the regular magnates^ march :

Each must observe the other^s tread and halt

At church, saloon, theatre, house of play.

Who could help noticing the husband^s slouch, 855

The black of his brow — or miss the news that buzzed

Of how the little solitanr wife

Wept and looked out of window all day long?

What need of minute search into such springs

As start men, set o' the move ? — machinery 860

Old as earth, obvious as the noonday sun.

Why, take men as they come, — an instance now, —

Of all those who have simply gone to see

Pompilia on her deathbed since four days.

Half at the least are, call it how you please, 865

In love with her — I don't except the priests

Nor even the. old confessor whose eyes run

Over at what he styles his sister's voice

Who died so early and weaned him from the world.

Well, had they viewed her ere the paleness pushed 870

^ Characttry : maimer or means of exprcfiiiig by gbanpters.

90 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

The last o' the red o' the rose away, while yet

Some handy adventurous ^twixt the wind and her,

Mieht let shy life run back and raise the flower

Ricn with reward up to the guardian^s £ace, —

Would they have kept that hand employed all day 875

At fumbling on with prayer-book pages? No!

Men are men : why then need I say one word

More than that our mere man the Canon here

Saw, pitied, loved Pompilia?

This is why ;
This startling why : that Caponsacchi^s self — 880

Whom foes and mends' alike avouch, for good
Or ill, a man of truth whatever betide.
Intrepid altogether, reckless too
How his own fame and fortune, tossed to the winds,
Suffer by any turn the adventure take, 885

Nay, more — not thrusting, like a badge to hide,
'Twixt shirt and skin a joy which shown is shame -
But flirting flag-like i' the fece o' the world
This tell-tale kerchief, this conspicuous love
For the lady, — oh, called innocent love, I know! 890

Only, such scarlet fiery innocence
As most folk would try muflle up in shade, —
T is strange then that this else abashless mouth
Should yet maintain, for truth^s sake which is God%
That it was not he made the first advance, 895

That, even ere word had passed between the two,
Pompilia penned him letters, passionate prayers,
If not love, then so simulating love
That he, no novice to the taste of thyme.
Turned from such over-luscious honey-clot 900

At end o^ the flower, and would not lend his lip
Till . . . but the tale here frankly outsoars fiuth :
There must be fiailsehood somewhere. For her part,
Pompilia quietly constantly avers

She never penned a letter in her life 905

Nor to the Canon nor any other man,
Bein^ incompetent to write and read :
Nor had she ever uttered word to him, nor he
To her till that same evening when they met.
She on her window-terrace, he beneath 910

r the public street, as was their fateful chance.
And she adjured him in the name of God
To find out, bring to pass where, when and how
Escape with him to Rome might be contrived.
Means were found, plan laid, time fixed, she avers, 915

And heart assured to heart in loyalty,

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. gi

All at ail impulse! All extemporized

As in romance-books ! Is that credible ?

Well, yes : as she avers this with calm moath

Dying, I do think " Credible! " you'd cry — gio

Did not the priest's voice come to break the spell.

They questioned him apart, as the custom is,

When first the matter made a noise at Rome,

And he, calm, constant then as she is now.

For truth's sake did assert and re-assert 925

Those letters called him to her and he came,

— Which damns the story credible otherwise.
Why should this man, — mad to devote himself
Careless what comes of his own fame, the first, —

Be studious thus to publish and declare 930

Just what the lightest nature loves to hide,
So screening lady from the byword's laugh
" First spoke the lady, last the cavalier! "

— I say, — whv shomd the man tell truth just now

When graceful lying meets such ready shmt? 935

Or is there a first moment for a priest

As for a woman, when invaded shame

Must have its first and last excuse to show?

Do both, contrive love's entry in the mind

Shall look, i' the manner of it, a surprise, — 940

That after, once the flag o' the fort hauled down,

Effrontery may sink drawbridge, open gate,

Welcome and entertain the conqueror?

Or what do you say to a touch of the devil's worst?

Can it be that the husband, he who wrote 945

The letter to his brother I told you of,

P the name of her it meant to criminate, —

What if he wrote those letters to the priest ?

Further the priest says, when it first befell,

This folly o' the letters, that he checked the flow, 950

Put them back lightly each with its reply.

Here again vexes new discrepancy :

There never reached her eve a word from him :

He did write but she could not read — could just

Burn the offence to wifehood, womanhood, 955

So did burn : never bade him come to her,

Yet when it proved he must come, let him come.

And when he did come though uncalled, — why, spoke

Prompt by an inspiration : thus it chanced.

Will you go somewhat back to understand? 960

When first, pursuant to his plan, there sprang,
Like an uncaged beast, Guido's cruelty
On soul and body of his wife, she cried

92 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

To those whom law appoints resource for such^

The secular e;uardiany — that 's the Governor, 965

And the Aroibishop, — that ^s the spiritual guide,

And prated them take the claws from out her flesh

Now, this is ever the ill consequence

Of being noble, poor and difficult.

Ungainly, yet too great to disregard, — 970

This — that born peers and friends hereditary, —

Though disinclined to help from their own store

The opprobrious wight, put pennv in his pdce

From private purse or leave the aoor ajar

When he goes wistful by at dinner-time, — 975

Yet, if his needs conduct him where they sit

Smugly in office, judge this, bishop that.

Dispensers of the shine and shade o^ the place —

Ana if, friend^s door shut and friend^s purse undrawn,

Still potentates may find the office-seat 980

Do as good service at no cost — give help

By-the-bye, pay up traditional dues at once

Just through a feather-weight too much i^ the scale,

Or finger-tip forgot at the balance-tongue, —

Why, only churls refuse, or Molinists. 985

Thus when, in the first roughness of surprise

At Guidons wolf-face whence the sheepskin fell,

The frightened couple, all bewilderment.

Rushed to the Governor, — who else rights wrong?

Told him their tale of wrong and craved redress — 990

Why, then the Governor woke up to the fact

That Guido was a friend of old, poor Count! —

So, promptly paid his tribute, promised the pair.

Wholesome chastisement should soon cure their qualms

Next time they came, wept, prated and told lies : 995

So stopped all prating, sent them dumb to Rome.

Well, now it was Pompilia's turn to try :

The troubles pressing on her, as I said.

Three times she rushed, maddened by misery.

To the other mighty man, sobbed out her prayer 1000

At footstool of the Archbishop — fast the friend

Of her husband also! Oh, good friends of yore!

So, the Archbishop, not to be outdone

By the Governor, break custom more than he.

Thrice bade the foolish woman stop her tongue, 1005

Unloosed her hands from harassing his gout.

Coached her and carried her to the Count again,

— His old friend should be master in his house.

Rule his wife and correct her faults at need!

Well, driven from post to pillar in this wise, loio

She, as a last resource, betook herself

THE OTHER HALF-ROME, 93

To one, should be no family-friend at least,

A simple friar o^ the dty ; confessed to him,

Then told how fierce temptation of release

By self-dealt death was busy with her soul, 1015

And urged that he put this in words, write plain

For one who could not write, set down her prayer

That Pietro and Violante, parent-like

If somehow not her parents, should for love

Come save her, pluck from out the flame the brand 1020

Themselves had thoughtlessly thrust in so deep

To send gay-colored sparkles up and cheer

Their seat at the chimney-comer. The eood friar

Promised as much at the moment ; but, zuack.

Night brings discretion : he was no one^s friend, 1025

Yet presently found he could not turn about

Nor take a step i* the case and fail to tread

On someone^s toe who either was a friend.

Or a friend^s friend, or friend^s friend thrice-removed,

And woe to friar by whom offences come! 1030

So, the course being plain, — with a general sigh

At matrimony the profound mistake, —

He threw reluctantly the business up.

Having his other penitents to mind.

If then, all outlets thus secured save one, 1035

At last she took to the open, stood and stared

With her wan fece to see where God might wait —

And there found Caponsacchi wait as well

For the precious something at perdition^s edge.

He only "was predestinate to save, — 1040

And if they recognized in a critiod flash

From the zenith, each the other, her need of him.

His need of . . . sav, a woman to perish for.

The regular way o' tne world, yet break no vow.

Do no harm save to himself, — if this were thus? 1045

How do you say? It were improbable ;

So is the legend of my patron-saint.

Anyhow, whether, as Guido states the case,

Pompilia, — like a starving wretch i' the street

Who stops and rifles the nrst passenger 1050

In the great right of an excessive wrong, —

Did somehow call this stranger and he came, —

Or whether the strange sudden interview

Blazed as when star and star must needs go close

Till each hurts each and there is loss in heaven — 1055

Whatever way in this strange world it was, —

Pompilia and Caponsacchi met, in fine.

94 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

She at her window, he i^ the street beneath.
And understood each other at first look.

All was determined and performed at once. 1060

And on a certain April evening, late

r the month, this girl of sixteen, bride and wife

Three years and over, — she who hitherto

Had never taken twenty steps in Rome

Beyond the church, pinned to her mother^s gown, 1065

Nor, in Arezzo, knew her way through street

Except what led to the Archbishop's door, —

Such an one rose up in the dark, laid hand

On what came first, clothes and a trinket or two,

Belongings of her own in the old day, — 1070

Stole from the side o' the sleeping spouse — who knows?

Sleeping; perhaps, silent for certain, — slid

Ghost-like from great dark room to great dark room

In through the tapestries and out again

And onward, unembarrassed as a fate, 1075

Descended staircase, eained last door of all,

Sent it wide open at nrst push of palm.

And there stood, first time, last and only time.

At libertjr, alone in the open street, —

Unquestioned, unmolested found herself 1080

At the city gate, by Caponsacchi's side,

Hope there, joy there, life and all good again.

The carriage there, the convoy there, light there

Broadening ever into blaze at Rome

And breaking small what Xong miles lay between ; 1085

Up she sprang, in he followed, they were safe

The husband quotes this for incredible.

All of the story from first word to last :

Sees the priest's hand throughout upholding hers.

Traces his foot to the alcove, that night, 1090

Whither and whence blindfold he knew the way,

Proficient in all craft and stealthiness ;

And cites for proof a servant, eye that watched

And ear that opened to purse secrets up,

A woman-spy, — suborned to give and take 1095

Letters and tokens, do the wonc of shame

The more adroitly that herself, who helped

Communion thus between a tainted pair.

Had long since been a leper thjck in spot,

A common trull o' the town : she witnessed all, 11 00

Helped many meetings, partings, took her wage

And then told Guido the whole matter. Lies!

The woman's life confutes her word, — her word

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 95

Confutes itself: '< Thus, thus and thus I lied.*^

^ And thus, no question, still you lie/^ we say. 1 105

^ Ay, but at last, e>n have it how you will,

Whatever the means, whatever the way, eicplodes

The consummation " — the accusers shriek :

" Here is the wife avowedly found in flight.

And the companion of her flight, a priest ; 1 1 10

She flies her husband, he the churcn his spouse :

What is this?"

Wife and priest alike reply
'' This is the simple thing it claims to be,
A course we took for life and honoris sake.
Very strange, very justifiable.** 1 1 1 5

She says, << God put it in my head to fly.
As when the martin migrates : autumn claps
Her hands, cries < Winter^s coming, will be here,
Off with you ere the white teeth overtake!
Flee! * So I fled : this friend was the warm day, 11 20

The south wind and whatever £&vors flight ;
I took the £&vor, had the help, how else ?
And so we did fly rapidly all night,
All day, all night — a longer night — again.
And then another day, longest of days, 11 25

And all the while, whether we fled or stopped,
I scarce know how or why, one thought filled both,
' Fly and arrive! * So long as I found strength
I talked with my companion, told him much.
Knowing that he knew more, knew me, knew God 11 30

And God's disposal of me, — but the sense
O' the blessed flight absorbed me in the main,
And speech became mere talking through a sleep.
Till at the end of that last longest night
In a red daybreak, when we reached an inn 1 135

And my companion whispered * Next stage — Rome! '
Sudden the weak flesh fell like piled-up cards,
All the frail fabric at a finger's touch,
And prostrate the poor soul too, and I said
^ But though Count Guido were a furlong off, 1 140

Just on me, I must stop and rest awhile!'
Then something like a huge white wave o' the sea
Broke o'er my brain and buried me in sleep
Blessedly, till it ebbed and left me loose,
And where was I found but on a strange bed 1145

In a stranee room like hell, roaring with noise,
Ruddy wiSi flame, and filled with men, in front

96 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

0

Who but the man you call my husband ? ay -^

Count Guido once more between heaven and mei

For there my heaven stood, my salvation, yes — 1150

That Caponsacchi all my heaven of help,

Helpless himself, held prisoner in the hands

Of men who looked up in mv husband^s £ace

To take the faXt thence he snould signify,

Just as the way was at Arezzo. Then, 1155

Not for my sake but his who had helped me —

I sprang up, reached him with one bound, and seized

The sword o' the felon, trembling at his side,

Fit creature of a coward, unsheathed the thing

And would have pinned him through the poison-bag 11 60

To the wall and left him there to palpitate.

As you serve scorpions, but men interposed —

Disarmed me, gave his life to him aeam

That he might take mine and the other lives,

And he has done so. I submit myself !^^ 1165

The priest says — oh, and in the main result

The fects asseverate, he truly says.

As to the very act and deed of him.

However you mistrust the mind o' the man —

The flight was just for flight's sake, no pretext 11 70

For aught except to set Pompilia free.

He says << I cite the husband's self's worst charge

In proof of my best word for both of us.

Be it conceded that so many times

We took our pleasure in his palace : then, 1175

What need to fly at all ? — or flying no less.

What need to outra^^e the lips sick and white

Of a woman, and bnng ruin down beside.

By halting when Rome lay one stage beyond? "

So does he vindicate Pompilia's fame, 11 80

Confirm her story in all points but one —

This ; that, so fleeing and so breathing forth

Her last strength in the prayer to halt awhile.

She makes confusion of the reddening white

Which was the sunset when her strength gave way, 1 185

And the next sunrise and its whitenii^g red

Which she revived in when her husband came :

She mixes both times, mom and eve, in one.

Having lived through a blank of night 'twixt each

Though dead-sleep, unaware as a corpse, 1 190

She on the bed above ; her friend below

Watched in the doorway of the inn the while.

Stood i' the red o' the morn, that she mistakes,

In act to rouse and quicken the tardy crew

And hurry out the horses, have the stage 1 195

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 97

Over, the last league^ reach Rome and be safe :
When up came Guido.

Guidons tale begins —
How he and his whole household, drunk to death
By some enchanted potion, poppied drugs
Plied by the wife, lay powerless in gross sleep 1200

And lett the spoilers unimpeded way,
Could not shake off their poison and pursue,
Till noontide, then made shift to get on horse
And did pursue : which, means he took his time.
Pressed on no more than lingered after, step 1205

By step, just making; sure o' the fugitives.
Till at the nick of time, he saw his chance.
Seized it, came up with and surprised the pair.
How he must needs have gnawn lip and gnashed teeth,
Taking successively at tower and town, 12 10

Village and roadside, still the same report
<^ Yes, such a pair arrived an hour ago.
Sat in the carriage just where now you stand,
While we got horses ready, — turned deaf ear
To all entreaty they would even alight ; 12 15

Counted the minutes and resumed their course.^
Would they indeed escape, arrive at Rome,
Leave no least loop-hole to let murder through,
But foil him of his captured infamy.

Prize of ffuilt proved and perfect ? So It seemed. 1220

Till, oh the happy chance, at last stage, Rome
But two short hours off, Castelnuovo reached,
The guardian angel gave reluctant place,
Satan stepped forward with alacritv,

Pompilia^s flesh and blood succumbed, perforce 1225

A halt was, and her husband had his will.
Perdue he couched, counted out hour by hour
Till he should spy in the east a signal-streak —
Night had been, morrow was, triumph would be.
Do you see the plan deliriously complete ? 1230

The rush upon the unsuspecting sleep.
The easy execution, the outcry
Over the deed " Take notice all the world !
These two dead bodies, locked still in embrace, —
The man is Caponsacchi and a priest, 1235

The woman is my wife : they fled me late,
Thus have I found and you behold them thus,
And may judge me : do you approve or no ? "

Success did seem not so improbable.

But that already Satan^s laugh was heard, 1240

His black back turned on Guido — left i^ the lurch

H

98 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Or rather, baulked of suit and service now.

Left to improve on both by one deed more,

Burn up the better at no distant day,

Body and soul one holocaust to hell. 1245

Anyhow, of this natural consequence

Did just the last link of the long chain snap :

For an eruption was o' the priest, alive

And alert, calm, resolute and formidable.

Not the least look of fear in that broad brow — 1250

One not to be disposed of by surprise.

And armed moreover — who had guessed as much ?

Yes, there stood he in secular costume

Complete from head to heel, with sword at side,

He seemed to know the trick of perfectly. 1255

There was no prompt suppression of the man

As he said calmly " I have saved your wife

From death ; there was no other way but this ;

Of what do I defraud you except death ?

Charge any wrong beyond, I answer it." 1260

Guido, the valorous, had met his match,

Was forced to demand help instead of fight,

Bid the authorities o^ the place lend aid

And make the best of a broken matter so.

They soon obeyed the summons — I suppose, 1265

Apprised and ready, or not far to seek —

Laid hands on Caponsacchi, found in fault,

A priest yet flagrantly accoutred thus, —

Then, to make good Count Guido's further charge,

Proceeded, prisoner made lead the way, 1270

In a crowd, upstairs to the chamber-door

Where wax-white, dead asleep, deep beyond dream,

As the priest laid her, lay Pompilia yet.

And as he mounted step and step with the crowd

How I see Guido taking heart again! 1275

He knew his wife so well and the way of her —

How at the outbreak she would shroud her shame

In helps heart, would it mercifully yawn —

How, failing that, her forehead to his foot.

She would crouch silent till the great doom fell, 1280

Leave him triumphant with the crowd to see

Guilt motionless or writhing like a worm!

No ! Second misadventure, this worm turned,

I told you : would have slain him on the spot

With his own weapon, but they seized her hands : 1285

Leaving her tongue free, as it tolled the knell

Of Guido's hope so lively late. The past

Took quite another shape now. She who shrieked

THE OTHER HALF-ROME, 99

^ At least and for ever I am mine and God%

Thanks to his liberating angel Death — 1290

Never again degraded to be yours

The ignoble noble, the unmanly man,

The l^ast below the beast in brutishness!^ —

This was the froward child, ^^ the restif lamb

Used to be cherished in his breast," he eroaned — 1295

'^ Eat from his hand and drink from out his cup,

The while his fingers pushed their loving way

Throue;h curl on curl of that soft coat — alas.

And she all silverly baaed eratitude

While meditating mischief!" — and so forth. 1300

He must invent another story now!

The ins and outs o^ the rooms were searched : he found

Or showed for found the abominable prize —

Love-letters from his wife who cannot write,

Love-letters in replv o' the priest — thank God! — 1305

Who can write and confront his character

With this, and prove the false thing forged throughout :

Spitting whereat, he needs must spatter whom

But Guidons self? — that forged and falsified

One letter called Pompilia^s, past dispute : 13 10

Then why not these to make sure still more sure?

So was the case concluded then and there :

Guido preferred his charges in due form.

Called on the law to adjudicate, consigned

The accused ones to the Prefect of the place, 13 15

(Oh mouse-birth of that mountain-like revenge!)

And so to his own place betook himself

After the spring that £uled, — the wildcat's way.

The captured parties were conveyed to Rome ;

Investigation followed here i' the court — 1320

Soon to review the fruit of its own work.

From then to now being eieht months and no more.

Guido kept out of sight and safe at home :

The Abate, brother Paolo, helped most

At words when deeds were out of question, pushed 1325

Nearest the purple,^ best played deputy,

So, pleaded. Guidons representative

At the court shall soon try Guidons self, — what 's more^

The court that also took — I told you. Sir —

That statement of the couple, how a cheat 1330

Had been i' the birth of the babe, no child of theirs.

That was the prelude ; this, the play's first act :

Whereof we wait what comes, crown, close of all.

^ The purpU : the color of the cardinals.

100 THE RING AND THE BOOK

Well, the result was something of a shade
On the parties thus accused, — how otherwise? 1335

Shade, but with shine as unmistakable.
Each had a prompt defence : Pompilia first —
'^ Earth was made hell to me who did no harm :
I only could emerge one way from hell

By catching at the one hand held me, so 1340

I caught at it and thereby stepped to heaven :
If that be wrong, do with me what you will ! "
Then Caponsacchi with a grave grand sweep
O' the arm as though his soul warned baseness off —
^' If as a man, then much more as a priest 1345

I hold me bound to help weak innocence :
If so my worldly reputation burst,
Being the bubble* it is, why, burst it may :
Blame I can bear though not blameworthiness.
But use your sense firsl^ see if the miscreant proved, 1350
The man who tortured thus the woman, thus
Have not both laid the trap and fixed the lure
Over the pit should bury body and soul !
His facts are lies : his letters are the fact —
An infiltration flavored with himself! 1355

As for the fiuicies — whether .... what is it you say?
The lady loves me, whether I love her
In the forbidden sense of your surmise, —
If, with the midday blaze of truth above,
The unlidded eye of God awake, aware, 1360

You needs must pry about and trace the birth
Of each stray beam of light may traverse night,
To the night's sun that 's Lucifer himself.
Do so, at other time, in other place.

Not now nor here ! Enough that first to last 1365

I never touched her lip nor she my hand
Nor either of us thought a thought, much less
Spoke a word which the Virgin might not hear.
Be such your question, thus I answer it."
Then the court had to make its mind up, spoke. 1370

^^ It is a thorny question, yea, a tale
Hard to believe, but not impossible :
Who can be absolute for either side ?
, A middle course is happily open yet.
Here has a blot surprised the social blank, — 1375

Whether through favor, feebleness or fault.
No matter, leprosy has touched our robe
And we unclean must needs be purified.

"^ If so my worldly reputation bursty being the bubble it is : recalls Shakespeare
" As You Like It/» II. vii. xsa.

THE OTHER MALF-kOME. tot

Here is a wife makes holiday from home,

A priest caught playing truant to his church, 2380

In masquerade moreover : both allege

Enough excuse to stop our lifted scourge

Which else would heavily £all. On the other hand.

Here is a husband, ay and man of mark.

Who comes complaining here, demands redress 1385

As if he were the pattern of desert —

The while those plaguv allefi;ations frown,

Forbid we grant him the redress he seeks.

To all men be our moderation known!

Rewarding none while compensating each, 1390

Hurting aJl round though harming nobody,

Husband, wife, priest, scot-free not one shall ^scape,

Yet priest, wife, husband, boast the unbroken hesid

From application of our excellent oil :

So that, whatever be the fact, in fine, 1395

We make no miss of justice in a sort.

First, let the husband stomach as he may.

His wife shall neither be returned him, no —

Nor branded, whipped and caged, but just consigned

To a convent and the quietude she craves ; 1400

So is he rid of his domestic plague :

What better thing can happen to a man?

Next, let the priest retire — unshent, unshamed.

Unpunished as for perpetrating crime.

But relegated (not imprisoned. Sirs!) 1405

Sent for three years to clarify his youth

At Civita,^ a rest bv the way to Rome :

There let his life skim off its last of lees

Nor keep this dubious color. Judeed the cause :

AU parties may retire, content, we nope." 1410

That ^s Rome^s way, the traditional road of law ;

Whither it leads is what remains to tell.

The priest went to his relegation-place.

The wife to her convent, brother Paolo

To the arms of brother Guido with the news 141 5

And this beside — his charge was countercharged ;

The Comparini, his old brace of hates.

Were breathed and vigilant and venomous now —

Had shot a second bolt where the first stuck.

And followed up the pending dowry-suit 1420

By a procedure should release the wife

From so much of the marriaee-bond as barred

Escape when Guido tiuned the screw too much

1 Civiia : Civita Vecchb, a seaport near Roma.

i

102 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

On his wife^s flesh and blood, as husband may.

No more defence, she turned and made attack, 1425

Claimed now divorce from bed and board, in short :

Pleaded such subtle strokes of cruelty.

Such slow sure siege laid to her body and soul.

As, proved, — and proofs seemed coming thick and fast, —

Would gain both freedom and the dowry back 1430

Even should the first suit leave them in his grasp :

So urged the Comparini for the wife.

Guido had gained not one of the good things

He grasped at by his creditable plan

O^ the flight and following and the rest : the suit 1435

That smouldered late was fanned to fury new.

This adjunct came to help with fiercer nre.

While he had got himself a quite new plague —

Found the world's face an universal grin

At this last best of the Hundred Merry Tales * 1440

Of how a young and sprightly clerk devised

To carry off" a spouse that moped too much.

And cured her of the vapors in a trice :

And how the husband, playing Vulcan's ^ part,

Told by the Sun, started in hot pursuit 1445

To catch the lovers, and came halting up.

Cast his net and then called the Gods to see

The convicts in their rosy impudence —

Whereat said Mercury "Would that I were Mars!"

Oh it was rare, and naughty all the same! 1450

Brief, the wife's courage and cunning, — the priest's show

Of chivalry and adroitness, — last not least.

The husband — how he ne'er showed teeth at all.

Whose bark had promised biting ; but just sneaiked

Back to his kennel, tail 'twixt legs, as 't were, — 1455

All this was hard to gulp down and di&^est.

So pays the devil his liegeman, brass Tor gold.

But this was at Arezzo : here in Rome

Brave Paolo bore up against it all —

Battled it out, nor wanting to himself 1460

Nor Guido nor the House whose weight he bore

Pillar-like, by no force of arm but brain.

He knew his Rome, what wheels to set to work ;

Plied influential folk, pressed to the ear

* Hundred Merry Tales : Browning Roman citizen would, however, be more likdy

seems to be thinking here of " A C Mery to have in mind Boccaccio's ** Decameron,"

Talys " (A Hundred Merry Tales) , a collec- which contained a hundred stories,
tion of short stories published in England in * Fu/can's part: referring to Homer

1526 by John Rastell. The titles in the table (" Odyssey," viii. 266 ff.), where Hephaestus

of contents are exactly in the manner of the (Vulcan) is deceived by Aphrodite (Venus)i

story cited here, all beginning with '* Of." A his wife, and Ares (Mars), her lover.

Ttii: dTHM HALF-kOME, idj

Of the efficacious purple, pushed his wa^ 1465

To the old Pope's self, — past decency indeed, —
Praying him take the matter in his hands
Out of the regular court's incompetence.
But times are changed and nephews out of date
And £Eivoritism un&hionable : the Pope 1470

Said ^^ Render Caesar what is Caesar's due! "
As for the Comparini's counter-plea,
He met that bv a counter-plea aepun.
Made Guido claim divorce — with help so hx
By the trial's issue : for, why punishment 1475

However slight unless for guiltiness
However slender? — and a molehill serves
Much as a mountain of offence this way.
So was he gathering strength on every side
And ep'owing more and more to menace — when 1480

All of a terrible moment came the blow
' That beat down Paolo's fence, ended the play
O' the foil and brought mannaia^ on the stage.

Five months had passed now since Pompilia's flight,

Months spent in peace among the Convert nuns. 1485

This, — b«ing, as it seemed, for Guido's sake

Solely, what pride might call imprisonment

And quote as something gained, to friends at home, —

This naturally was at Guido's charge :

Grudge it he might, but penitential fare, 1490

Prayers, preachines, who but he defraved the cost?

So, Paolo dropped, as proxv, doit by aoit

Like heart's blood, till — wnat 's here? What notice comes?

The convent's self makes application bland

That, since Pompilia's health is £^t o' the wane, 1495

She may have leave to eo combine her cure

Of soul with cure of body, mend her mind

Together with her thin arms and sunk eyes

That want fresh air outside the convent-wall,

Say in a friendly house, — and which so fit 1500

As a certain villa in the Pauline way.

That happens to hold Pietro and his wife.

The natural guardians ? ^^ Oh, and shift the care

You shift the cost, too ; Pietro pays in turn.

And lightens Guido of a load! And then, 1505

Villa or convent, two names for one thing.

Always the sojourn means imprisonment,

Domus pro carcere * — nowise we relax.

Nothing abate : how answers Paolo ? "

* Mannaia : wot note, I. 1390. ' Domus pro carcere: see note, II. 1333.

i04 THE RING AND tH£ BOOX.

You,
What would you answer? All so smooth and ^r, 1510

Even Paul's astuteness sniffed no harm i^ the world.
He authorized the transfer, saw it made
And, two months after, reaped the fruit of the samCi
Having to sit down, rack his brain and find
What phrase should serve him best to notify 151 5

Our Guido that by happy providence
A son and heir, a babe was born to him
r the villa, — go tell sympathizing friends!
Yes, such had been Pompilia's pnvilege :
She, when she fled was one month gone with child, 1520

Known to herself or unknown, either way
Availing to explain (say men of art)
The strange and passionate precipitance
Of maiden startled into motherhood

Which changes body and soul by nature^s law. 1525

So when the she-dove breeds, strange yearnings come
For the unknown shelter by undreamed-of shores.
And there is born a blood-pulse in her heart
To fight if needs be, though with flap of wing,
For the wool-flock or the fur-tuft, though a hawk 1 530

Contest the prize, — wherefore, she knows not yet.
Anyhow, thus to Guido came the news.
" I shall have quitted Rome ere you arrive
To take the one step left," — wrote Paolo.
Then did the winch o' the winepress of all hate, 1535

Vanity, disappointment, grudge and greed.
Take the last turn that screws out pure revenge
With a bright bubble at the brim beside —
By an heir's birth he was assured at once
O' the main prize, all the money in dispute : 1540

Pompilia's dowry might revert to her
Or stay with him as Taw's caprice should point, —
But now — now — what was Pietro's shall be hers,
What was hers shall remain her own, — if hers.
Why then, — oh, not her husband's but — her heir's! 1545
That heir being his too, all grew his at last
By this road or by that road, since they join.
Before, why, push he Pietro out o' the world, —
The current of the money stopped, you see,
Pompilia being proved no Pietro's child : 1550

Or let it be Pompilia's life he quenched.
Again the current of the money stopped, —
Guido debarred his rights as husband soon,
So the new process threatened ; — now, the chance,
Now, the resplendent minute ! Clear the earth, 1555

Cleanse the house, let the three but disappear

THE OTHER HALF-EOME. 105

A child remains, depositary of all.

That Guido may enjoy his own aeain,

Repair all losses by a master-stroke.

Wipe out the past, all done all left undone, 1560

Swell the good present to best evermore.

Die into new life, which let blood baptize!

So, i^ the blue of a sudden sulphur-blaze.

Both why there was one step to take at Rome,

And why he should not meet with Paolo there, 1565

He saw — the ins and outs to the heart of hell —

And took the straight line thither swift and sure.

He rushed to Vittiano, found four sons o^ the soil,

Brutes of his breeding, with one spark i^ the clod

That served for a soul, the looking up to him 1570

Or aught called Franceschini as life, death,

Heaven, hell, — lord paramount, assembled these.

Harangued, equipped, instructed, pressed each clod

With his wilPs imprint ; then took horse, plied spur,

And so arrived, all five of them, at Rome 1575

On Christmas-£ve, and forthwith found themselves

Installed i^ the vacancy and solitude

Left them by Paolo, the considerate man

Who, good as his word, had disappeared at once

As if to leave the stage free. A whole week 1580

Did Guido spend in study of his part,

Then played it fearless of a failure. One,

Struck the yearns clock whereof the hours are days,

And off was rung o' the little wheels the chime

"Good will on earth and peace to man : " but, two, 1585

Proceeded the same bell and, evening come.

The dreadful five felt finger-wise their way

Across the town by blind cuts and black turns

To the little lone suburban villa ; knocked —

" Who may be outside? " called a well-known voice. 1590

" A friend of Caponsacchi^s bringing friends

A letter."

That 's a test, the excusers say :
Ay, and a test conclusive, I return.
What ? Had that name brought touch of guilt or taste
Of fear with it, aught to dash the present joy 1 595

With memory of the sorrow just at end, —
She, happy in her parents' arms at length
With the new blessing of the two weeks' babe, —
How had that name's announcement moved the wife?
Or, as the other slanders circulate, 1600

Were Caponsacchi no rare visitant
On nights and days whither safe harbor lured,

io6 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

What bait had been i^ the name to ope the door?

The promise of a letter? Stealthy guests

Have secret watchwords, private entrances : 1 605

The man's own self might have been found inside

And all the scheme made frustrate by a word.

No : but since Guido knew, none knew so well.

The man had never since returned to Rome

Nor seen the wife's face more than villa's front, 1610

So, could not be at hand to warn or save, —

For that, he took this sure way to the end.

" Come in," bade poor Violante cheerfully,

Drawing the door-bolt : that death was the first,

Stabbea through and through . Pietro, close on her heels, 1 61 5

Set up a cry — ** Let me confess myself !

Grant but confession! " Cold steel was the grant.

Then came Pompilia's turn.

Then they escaped.
The noise o' the slaughter roused the neighborhood.
They had forgotten just the one thing more 1620

Which saves 1 ' the circumstance, the ticket to-wit
Which puts post-horses at a traveller's use :
So, all on foot, desperate through the dark
Reeled they like drunkards along open road.
Accomplished a prodigious twenty miles 1625

Homeward, and gained Baccano very near.
Stumbled at last, deaf, dumb, blind through the feat,
Into a grange and, one dead heap, slept there
Till the pursuers hard upon their trace

Reached them and took them, red from head to heel, 1630
And brought them to the prison where they lie.
The couple were laid i' the church two days ago.
And the wife lives yet by miracle.

All is told.
You hardly need ask what Count Guido says.
Since something he must say. " I own the deed — " 1635
(He cannot choose, — but — ) " I declare the same
Just and inevitable, — since no way else
Was left me, but by this of taking life.
To save my honor which is more than life.
I exercised a husband's rights." To which 1640

The answer is as prompt — " There was no feiult
In any one o' the three to punish thus :
Neither i' the wife, who kept all faith to you.
Nor in the parents, whom yourself first duped.
Robbed and maltreated, then turned out of doors. 1645

You wronged and they endured wrong ; yours the &ult.

THE OTHER HALF-ROME. 107

Next, had endurance overpassed the mark

And turned resentment needing remedy, —

Nay, put the absurd impossible case, for once

You were all blameless of the blame alleged 1650

And they blameworthy where you fix all blame,

Still, why this violation of the law?

Yourself elected law should take its course,

Avenge wrong, or show vengeance not your right ;

Why, only when the balance in law^s hand 1655

Trembles against you and inclines the way

O' the other party, do you make protest.

Renounce arbitrament, flying out of court.

And oying ^ Honor's hurt the sword must cure ' ?

Aha, and so i* the middle of each suit 1660

Trying i* the courts, — and you had three in play

With an appeal to the Pope^s self beside, —

What, you may chop and chanee and right your wrongs

Leaving the law to lag as she thinks fit ? "

That were too temptingly commodious. Count! 1665

One would have still a remedy in reserve

Should reach the safest oldest sinner, you see !

One's honor forsooth ? Does that take hurt alone

From the extreme outrage ? I who have no wife,

Being yet sensitive in my degree 1670

As Guido, — must discover hurt elsewhere

Which, half compounded-for in days gone by.

May profitably break out now afresh,

Need cure from my own expeditious hands.

The lie that was, as it were, imputed me 1675

When you objected to my contract's clause, —

The theft as good as, one may say, alleged.

When you, co-heir in a will, excepted. Sir,

To my administration of effects,

— Aha, do you think law disposed of these ? 1680

My honor's touched and shall deal death around!

Coimt, that were too commodious, I repeat!

If any law be imperative on us all.

Of all are you the enemy : out with you

From the common light and air and life of man! 1685

io8 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

IV.

TERTIUM QUID.

[Book IV. presents the condescending point of view of a critic who assumes to
be the mouth-piece of the superior class, and to deliver the enlightened and authori-
tative opinion on the case. Indifference takes the place, here, of any special sym-
pathy with either side, the speaker's only solicitude being to do himself credit in
the eyes of his distinguished listeners, and to steer clear of any prejudices they may
have. Accordingly, both sides are alternately elaborated, with a great show of
cleverness, and the conclusion is lost in a mist of neutrality.]

True, Excellency — as his Highness says,

Though she 's not dead yet, she 's as good as stretched

Symmetrical beside the other two ;

Though he ^s not judged yet, he ^s the same as judged,

So do the facts abound and superabound : 5

And nothing hinders that we lift the case

Out of the shade into the shine, allow

Qualified persons to pronounce at last,

Nay, edge in an authoritative word

Between this rabble^s-brabble of dolts and fools 10

Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.

" Now for the Trial! " they roar : " the Trial to test

The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike

r the scales oflaw, make one scale kick the beam! "

Law ^s a machine from which, to please the mob, 15

Truth the divinity must needs descend

And clear things at the play's fifth act — aha!

Hammer into their noddles who was who

And what was what. I tell the simpletons

'* Could law be competent to such a feat 20

'T were done already : what begins next week

Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain

Whereof the first was forged three years ago

When law addressed herself to set wrong right.

And proved so slow in taking the first step 25

That ever some new grievance, — tort, retort,

On one or the other side, — overtook i' the game.

Retarded sentence, till this deed of death

Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat

Crammed to the edge with cargo — or passengers ? 30

* Trecentos inserts: ohe^jam satis est I

TERTIUM QUID, 109

Hue appiUe I * * — passengers, the word must be."

Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.

To hear the rabble and brabble, you^d call the case

Fused and confused past human finding out. 35

One calls the square round, t^ other the round square —

And pardonably in that first surprise

O^ the blood that fell and splashed the diagram :

But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue

Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines ? 40

It makes a man despair of history,

Eusebius ^ and the established fact — fig's end!

Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away

With the leash of lawyers, two on either side —

One barks, one bites, — Masters Arcanj^eli 45

And Spreti, — that 's the husband's ultimate hope

Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,

Bound to do barking for the wife : bow — wow!

Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here

Would settle the matter as sufficiently 50

As ever will Advocate This and Fiscal That

And Judge the Other, with even — a word and a wink —

We well know who for ultimate arbiter.

Let us beware o' the basset-table * — lest

We jog the elbow of Her Eminence,^ 55

Jostle his cards, — he 'U rap you out a . . . st!

By the window-seat! And here's the Marquis too!

Indulge me but a moment : if I ^

— Favored with such an audience, understand ! —

To set things right, why, class me with the mob 60

As understander of the mind of man !

The mob, — now, that 's just how the error comes !

Bethink you that you have to deal with plebsf

The commonalty ; this is an episode

In burgess-life, — why seek to aggrandize^ 65

Idealize, denaturalize the class ?

People talk just as if they had to do

With a noble pair 'that . . . Excellency, your ear!

Stoop to me. Highness, — listen and look yourselves!

This Pietro, this Violante, live their life 70

^ Treeentot tHttris^ etc.: ho there! that as we should say, becomes " Sua Eminenza."

is enough now ! you are stowing in hundreds. Browning uses this idiom occasionally in the

(Horace, " Satires/' I. 5. 12). present book {^e.g. 11. 1633, 1634), but not

' Eusebius : historian, 365-338. regularly.

* Basset : a game of cards fashionable in * Plebs : the lowest political division of

the seventeenth century. the Roman people — plebeians opposed to

^ Her Eminence : an imitation of the the patricians, senators, and knights,
luiian idiom, in which "His Eminence/'

no THE RING AND THE BOOK.

At Rome in the easy way that *8 iax from worst

Even for their betters, — themselves love themseiveSy

Spend their own oil in feeding their own lamp

That their own faces may grow bright thereby.

They get to fifty and over : how 's the lamp? 75

Full to the depth o^ the wick, — moneys so much ;

And also with a remnant, — so much more

Of moneys, — which there ^s no consuming now.

But, when the wick shall moulder out some day^

Failing fresh twist of tow to use up dregs, 80

Will he a prize for the passer-by, — to-wit

Anyone that can prove himself the heir,

Seeing, the couple are wanting in a child :

Meantime their wick swims in the safe broad bowl

O* the middle rank, — not raised a beacon^s height 85

For wind to ravage, nor dropped till lamp graze ground

Like cresset, mumarks ^ poke now here now there,

Going their rounds to probe the ruts i* the road

Or fish the luck o^ the puddle. Pietro^s soul

Was satisfied when cronies smirked, ^' No wine 90

Like Pietro's, and he drinks it every day! "

His wife^s heart swelled her boddice, joyed its fill

When neighbors turned heads wistfully at churchy

Sighed at the load of lace that came to pray.

Well, having got through fifty vears of flare, 95

They burn out so, indulge so their dear selves.

That Pietro finds himself in debt at last.

As he were any lordling of us all :

And, now that dark begins to creep on day,

Creditors grow uneasy, talk aside, 100

Take counsel, then importune all at once.

For if the good fat rosy careless man.

Who has not laid a ducat by, decease —

Let the lamp fall, no heir at hand to catch —

Why, being childless, there ^s a spilth i^ the street 105

O^ the remnant, there ^s a scramble for the dregs

By the stranger : so, they grant him no long day

But come in a body, clamor to.be*paid.

What *s his resource ? He asks and straight obtains

The customary largess, dole dealt out no

To, what we call our " poor dear shame-faced ones,"

In secret once a month to spare the shame

O' the slothful and the spendthrift, — pauper-saints

The Pope puts meat i' the mouth of, ravens they.

And providence he — just what the mob admires! 115

^ Mudlarks : sewer-cleaners and rag-pickers.

TERTIUM QUID, iii

That i& instead of putting a prompt foot

On selnsh worthless human slugs whose slime

Has £uled to lubricate their path in life.

Why, the Pope picks the first n^ fruit that falls

And gracious puts it in the vermin^s way. I30

Pietro could never save a dollar? Straight

He must be subsidized at our expense :

And for his wife — the harmless household sheep

One ought not to see harassed in her age —

Judge, by the way she bore adversity, 125

O^ the patient nature you ask pity for!

How long, now, would the roughest marketman,

Handling the creatures huddled to the knife,

Harass a mutton ere she made a mouth

Or menaced bitin|r? Yet the poor sheep here, 130

Violante, the old innocent burgess-wife,

In her first difficulty showed great teeth

Fit to crunch up and swallow a good round crime.

She meditates the tenure of the Trust,

Fidei commissum is the lawyer-phrase, 135

These funds that only want an heir to take —

Goes o^er the gamut o^ the creditor's cry

By semitones from whine to snarl high up

And growl down low, one scale in sundry kejrs, —

Pauses with a little compunction for the face 140

Of Pietro frustrate of its ancient cheer, —

Never a bottle now for friend at need, —

Comes to a stop on her own frittered lace

And neighborly condolences thereat,

Then makes her mind up, sees the thing to do : 145

And so, deliberate, snaps house-book clasp,

Posts off to vespers, missal ^ beneath arm.

Passes the proper San Lorenzo by.

Dives down a little lane to the left, is lost

In a labyrinth of dwellings best unnamed, 150

Selects a certain blind one, black at base.

Blinking at top, — the sign of we know what, —

One candle in a casement set to wink

Streetward, do service to no shrine inside, —

Mounts thither bv the filthy flight of stairs, 155

Holding the core! by the wall, to the tip-top.

Gropes for the door i' the dark, ajar of course,

Raps, opens, enters in : up starts a thing

Naked as needs be — " What, you rosue, 't is you?

Back, — how can I have taken a farthmg yet ? 160

Mercy on me, poor sinner that I am!

^ MUtal: book of the mass, Roman Catholic prayer-book.

112 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Here ^s . . . whv, I took you for Madonna^s self

With aU that sudden swirl of silk i* the f^ace!

What may your pleasure be, my bonny dame?^

Your Excellency supplies aught left obscure? 165

One of those women that abound in Rome,

Whose needs oblige them eke out one poor trade

By another vile one : her ostensible work

Was washing clothes, out in the open air

At the cistern by Citorio ; her true trade — 170

Whispering to idlers, when they stopped and praised

The ankles she let liberally shine

In kneeling at the slab by the fountain-side,

That there was plenty more to criticise

At home, that eve, i^ the house where candle blinked 175

Decorously above, and all was done

V the holy fear of God and cheap beside.

Violante, now, had seen this woman wash,

Noticed and envied her propitious shape.

Tracked her home to her house-top, noted too^ 180

And now was come to tempt her and propose

A bargain far more shameful than the first

Which trafficked her virginity away

For a melon and three pauls ^ at twelve years old.

Five minutes^ talk with this poor child of Eve, 185

Struck was the bargain, business at an end —

^^ Then, six months hence, that person whom you trust,

Comes, fetches whatsoever babe it be ;

I keep the price and secret, you the babe.

Paying beside for mass to make all straight : 190

Meantime, I pouch the earnest-money-piece.**

Down stairs again goes fumbline by the rope

Violante, triumphing in a flourish of fire

From her own brain, self-lit by such success, —

Gains church in time for the ^^ Magnificat'*'* 195

And gives forth " My reproof is tsucen away,

And blessed shall mankmd proclaim me now,**

So that the officiating priest turns round

To see who proffers the obstreperous praise :

Then home to Pietro, the enraptured-much 200

But puzzled-more when told the wondrous news —

How orisons and works of charity,

(Beside that pair of pinners ^ and a coif,*

Birth-day surprise last Wednesday was five weeks)

Had borne fruit in the autumn of his life, — 205

^ Pauls : Italian silver coins worth about ' Pinners : lappets of a head-dress,
ten cents each. * Ccif: a cap.

TERT/l/M QUID. 113

They, or the Orvieto^ in a double dose.

Anyhow, she must keep house next six months.

Lie on the settle, avoid the three-legged stool,

And, chiefly, not be crossed in wish or whim,

And the result was like to be an heir. 210

Accordingly, when time was come about,

He found himself the sire indeed of this

Francesca Vittoria Pompilia and the rest

O^ the names whereby he sealed her his, next day.

A crime complete in its way is here, I hope? 215

Lies to God, lies to man, every way lies

To nature and civility and the mode :

Flat robbery of the proper heirs thus foiled

O' the due succession, — and, what followed thence,

Robbery of God, through the confessor^s ear 220

Debarred the most note-worthy incident

When all else done and undone twelve-month through

Was put in evidence at £aster-time.

All other peccadillos ! — but this one

To the pnest who comes next day to dine with us? 225

'T were inexpedient ; decency forbade.

Is so far clear? You know Violante now,

Compute her capability of crime

By this authentic instance? Black hard cold

Crime like a stone you kick up with your foot 230

r the middle of a field?

I thought as much.
But now, a question, — how long does it lie.
The bad and barren bit of stuff you kick.
Before encroached on and encompassed round
With minute moss, weed, wild-flower — made alive 235

By worm, and fly, and foot of the free bird ?
Your Highness, — healthy minds let bygones be.
Leave old crimes to grow young and virtuous-like
r the sun and air ; so time treats ugly deeds :
They take the natural blessing of all change. 240

There was the joy o' the husband silly-sooth.
The softening of the wife's old wicked heart.
Virtues to right and left, profusely paid
If so they might compensate the saved sin.
And then the sudden existence, dewy-dear, 245

O' the rose above the dungheap, the pure child
As good as new created, since withdrawn

1 Orvieto : probably a medicine of Ferrante, a celebrated charlatan who lived In Orvieto.
I

114 THE RIISTG AISTD THE BOOK.

From the horror of the pre-appointed lot

With the unknown father and the mother known

Too well, — some fourteen years of squalid youth^ 2C0

And then libertinage, disease, the grave —

Hell in life here, hereafter life in hell :

Look at that horror and this soft repose!

Why, moralist, the sin has saved a soul!

Then, even the palpable grievance to the heirs — 255

Taith, this was no frank setting hand to throat

And robbing a man, but . . . Excellency, by your leave,

How did vou get that marvel of a gem.

The sappnire with the Graces grand and Greek?

The story is, stooping to pick a stone 260

From the pathway through a vineyard — no-man's-land —

To pelt a sparrow with, you chanced on this :

Whv now, do those five clowns o^ the family

O' tne vinedresser digest their porridge worse

That not one keeps it in his goatskin pouch 265

To do flint's service with the tinder-box?

DonH cheat me, donH cheat you, donH cheat a firiend.

But are you so hard on who jostles just

A straneer with no natural sort of claim

To the havings and the holdings (here ^s the point) 270

Unless by misadventure, and defect

Of that which ought to be — nay, which there 's none

Would dare so much as wish to profit by —

Since who dares put in just so many words

"May Pietro fail to have a child, please God! 275

So shall his house and goods belone to me.

The sooner that his heart will pine oetimes"?

Well then, God doesnH please, nor heart shall pine!

Because he has a child at last, you see.

Or selfeame thing as though a child it were, 280

He thinks, whose sole concern it is to thii^ :

If he accepts it why should you demur?

Moreover, say that certain sin there seem.

The proper process of unsinning sin

Is to begin well-doing somehow else. 285

Pietro, — remember, with no sin at all

r the substitution, — why, this gift of God

Flung in his lap from over Paradise

Steadied him a moment, set him straight

On the good path he had been straying from. 290

Henceforward no more wilfulness and waste,

Cuppings, carousings, — these a sponge wiped out.

All sort of self-denial was easy now

For the child's sake, the chatelaine to be,

TERTIUM QUID. I15

Who must want much and might want who knows what? 295

And so, the debts were paid, habits reformed,

Expense curtailed, the dowry set to grow.

As for the wife, — I said, hers the whole sin :

So, hers the exemplary penance. T was a text

Whereon folk preached and praised, the district through : 300

<<Oh, make us happy and you make us good!

It all comes of God giving her a child :

Such graces follow God^s oest earthly gift! "

Here you put by my guard, pass to my heart

By the home-thrust — ^ There ^s a lie at base of all 305

Why, thou exact Prince, is it a pearl or no,

Yon globe upon the Principessa's neck?

That great round glory of pellucid stufl^

A fish secreted round a grain of grit!

Do you call it worthless for the worthless core? 310

(She doesn% who well knows what she chang^ for it.)

So, to our brace of burgesses again!

You see so far i^ the story, who was right.

Who wrong, who neither, donH you? What, you donH?

£h? Well, admit there ^s somewhat dark i^ the case, 315

Let 's on — the rest shall clear, I promise you.

Leap over a dozen years : vou find, these past,

An old good eas3r creditable sire,

A carefm housewife^s beaming bustling face.

Both wrapped up in the love of their one child, 320

The strange tall pale beautiful creature grown

Lily-like out o* the cleft i^ the sun-smit rock

To bow its white miraculous birth of buds

r the way of wandering Joseph and his spouse, —

So painters £mcv : here it was a iaxX. 325

And this their lily, — could thev but transplant

And set in' vase to stand by Solomon^s porch

Twixtlion and lion! — this Pompilia ot theirs.

Could they see worthily married, well bestowed.

In house and home! And why despair of this 330

With Rome to choose from, save the topmost rank?

Themselves would help the choice with heart and soul.

Throw their late savings in a common heap

To go with the dowry, and be followed in time

By the heritage legitimately hers : 335

And when such paragon was found and fixed.

Why, they might chant their ^^Nunc dimittis "* skaight

Indeed the prize was simply full to a £ciult,
s Nunc dimUiit : ** Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace," etc., Luke il aa.

u6 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Exorbitant for the suitor they should seek,

And social class should choose amone, these dts.^ 340

Yet there 's a latitude : exceptional white

Amid the general brown o* the species, lurks

A burgess nearly an aristocrat,

Legitimately in reach : look out for him!

What banker, merchant, has seen better daysy 345

What second-rate painter a-pushing up.

Poet a-slipping down, shall bid the best

For this young beauty with the thumping purse?

Alack, were it but one of such as these

So like the real thing that they pass for it, 350

All had gone well ! Unluckily, poor souls,

It proved to be the impossible thing itself.

Truth and not sham : hence ruin to them all.

For, Guido Franceschini was the head

Of an- old family in Arezzo, old 355

To that degree they could afford be poor

Better than most : the case is common too.

Out of the vast door ^scutcheoned overhead,

Creeps out a serving-man on Saturdays

To cater for the week, — turns up anon 360

r the market, chaffering for the Iambus least leg.

Or the quarter-fowl, less entrails, claws and comb

Then back again with prize, — a liver begged

Into the bargain, gizzard overlooked.

He 's mincing these to give the beans a taste, 365

When, at your knock, he leaves the simmering soup,

Waits on the curious stranger-visitant.

Napkin in half-wiped hand, to show the rooms.

Point pictures out have hung their hundred years,

" Priceless," he tells you, — puts in his place at once 370

The man of money : yes, you 're banker-king

Or merchant-kaiser, wallow in your wealth

While patron, the house-master, can't afford

To stop our ceiling-hole that rain so rots :

But he 's the man of mark, and there 's his shield, 375

And yonder 's the famed Rafael, first in kind.

The painter painted for his grandfather,

And you have paid to see : " Good morning, Sir! "

Such is the law of compensation. Still

The poverty was getting nigh acute ; 380

There gaped so many noble mouths to feed.

Beans must suffice unflavored of the fowl.

The mother, — hers would be a spun-out life

^ CiU : abbreviation of citixeas.

TEkTiVM QUID. 117

r the nature of things ; the sisters had done well

And married men of reasonable rank : 385

But that sort of illumination stops^

Throws back no heat upon the parent-hearth.

The family instinct felt out for its fire

To the Church, — the Church traditionally helps

A second son : and such was Paolo, 390

Established here at Rome these thirty years,

Who played the regular game, — priest and Abate,

Made friends, owned house and land, became of use

To a personage : his course lay clear enough.

The youngest caught the sympathetic flame, 395

And, though unfledged wings kept him still i^ the cage,

Yet he shot up to be a Canon, so

Clung to the higher perch and crowed in hope.

Even our Guido, eldest brother, went

As far i' the way o^ the Church as safety seemed, 400

He being Head o' the House, ordained to wive, —

So, could but dally with an Order or two

And testify good-will i^ the cause : he clipped

His top-hair and thus far affected Christ.

But main promotion must fa\\ otherwise, 405

Though still from the side o^ the Church : and here was he

At Rome, since first youth, worn threadbare of soul

By forty-six years' rubbing on hard life.

Getting fast tired o' the game whose word is — "Wait!

When one day, — he too having his Cardinal 410

To serve in some ambiguous sort, as serve

To draw the coach the plumes o' the horses' heads, —

The Cardinal saw fit to dispense with him,

Ride with one plume the less ; and off it dropped.

Guido thus left, — with a youth spent in vain 415

And not a penny in purse to show for it, —

Advised with Paolo, bent no doubt in chafe

The black brows somewhat formidably, growled

" Where is the good I came to get at Rome ?

Where the repa5rment of the servitude 420

To a purple popinjay, whose feet I kiss.

Knowing his father wiped the shoes of mine?"

" Patience," pats Paolo the recalcitrant —

" You have not had, so far, the proper luck.

Nor do my gains suffice to keep us both : 425

A modest competency is mine, not more.

You are the Count however, yours the style,

Heirdom and state, — you canH expect all good.

Had I, now, held your hand of cards . . . well, well —

What 's yet unplayed, 1 '11 look at, by your leave, 430

Ii8 THE RIl^G AI^D THE BOOK.

Over your shoulder, — I who made my game,

Let ^s see, if I can^ help to handle yours.

Fie on you, all the Honors in your fist,

Countship, Househeadship, — how have you misdealt!

Why, in the first place, these will marry a man! 435

Notum tansoribus I ^ To the Tonsor ^ then !

Come, clear your looks, and choose your freshest suit.

And, after function ^s done with', down we go

To the woman-dealer in perukes, a wench

I and some others settled in the shop 440

At Place Colonna : she ^s an oracle. Hmm!

* Dear, H is my brother : brother, 't is my dear.

Dear, give us counsel ! Whom do you suggest

As properest party in the quarter round

For the Count here? — he is minded to take wife, 445

And further tells me he intends to slip

Twenty zecchines • under the bottom-scalp

Of his old wi^ when he sends it to revive

For the weddmg : and I add a trifle too.

You know what personage I 'm potent with.' " 450

And so plumped out Pompilia^s name the first.

She told them of the household and its ways,

The easy husband and the shrewder wife

In Via Vittoria, — how the tall young girl,

With hair black as yon patch and eyes as big 455

As yon pomander * to make freckles fly.

Would have so much for certain, and so much more

In likelihood, — why, it suited, slipped as smooth

As the Pope's pantoufle * does on the Pope's foot.

'^ I '11 to the husband! " Guido ups and cries. 460

" Ay, so you 'd play your last court-card, no doubt! "

Puts Paolo in with a groan — " Only, you see,

'T is I, this time, that supervise your lead.

Priests play with women, maids, wives, mothers — why?

These play with men and take them off our hands. 465

Did I come, counsel with some cut-beard gruff

Or rather this sleek young-old barberess ?

Go, brother, stand you rapt in the ante-room

Of Her Efficacity • my Cardinal

For an hour, — he likes to have lord-suitors lounge, — 470

While I betake myself to the gray mare.

The better horse, — how wise the people's word! —

> Notum ioHsort'ius : " known to the bar- * Pomander : a ball of pomade for the

bers." See note, II. 114. skin.

* Tonsor: barber. ^Pantoufle : slipper.

* Zecchines : sequins, coins worth about ^ Her Ejfficacity : similar idiom to that
$a.a5 each. referred to in line 55.

TERTIUM QUID. 119

And wait on Madam Violante.**

Said and done.
He was at Via Vittoria in three skips :

Proposed at once to fill up the one want 475

O' the burgess-family which, wealthy enough,
And comfortable to hearths desire, yet crouched
Outside a gate to heaven, — locked, bolted, barred,
Whereof Count Guido had a key he kept
Under his pillow, but Pompilia^s hand 480

Might slide behind his neck and pilfer thence.
The key was fairy ; its mere mention made
Violante feel the thing shoot one sharp ray
That reached the womanly heart : so — "I assent!
Yours be Pompilia, hers and ours that key 485

To all the glories of the greater life!
There 's Pietro to convince : leave that to me! "

Then was the matter broached to Pietro ; then

Did Pietro make demand and get response

That in the Countship was a truth, but in 490

The counting up of the Count^s cash, a lie.

He thereupon stroked grave his chin, looked great,

Declined the honor. Then the wife wiped tear.

Winked with the other eye turned Paolo-ward,

Whispered Pompilia, stole to church at eve, 495

Found Guido there and got the marriage done,

And finally begged pardon at the feet

Of her dear lord and master. Whereupon

Quoth Pietro — " Let us make the best of things! "

" I knew your love would license us," quoth she : 500

Quoth Paolo once more, ^^ Mothers, wives and maids,

These be the tools wherewith priests manage men."

Now, here take breath and ask, — which bird o^ the brace
^Decoyed the other into clapnet ? Who
Was fool, who knave? Neither and both, perchance. 505
There was a bargain mentally proposed
On each side, straight and plain and £air enough ;
Mind knew its own mind : but when mind must speak.
The bargain have expression in plain terms.
There came the blunder incident to words, 510

And in the clumsy process, fair turned foul.
The straight backbone-thought of the crooked speech
Were just — "I Guido truck my name and rank
For so much money and youth and female charms. —
We Pietro and Violante give our child 515

And wealth to you for a rise i' the world thereby."
Such naked truth while chambered in the brain

120 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Shocks nowise : walk it forth by way of tonguey-^

Out on the cvnical unseemliness!

Hence was the need, on either side, of a lie 520

To serve as decent wrappage : so, Guido gives

Money for money, — and they, bride for groom,

Having, he, not a doit, they, not a child

Honesdy theirs, but this poor waif and stray.

According to the words, each cheated each ; 525

But in the inexpressive barter of thoughts.

Each did give and did take the thing designedy

The rank on this side and the cash on that -^

Attained the object of the traffic, so.

The way of the world, the daily bargain struck 530

In the nrst market! Why sells Jack his ware?

** For the sake of serving an old customer."

Why does Jill buy it ? " Simply not to break

A custom, pass the old stall the first time."

Why, you know where the gist is of the exchange: 53s

Each sees a profit, throws the fine words in.

Don't be too hard o' the pair! Had each pretence

Been simultaneously discovered, stript

From off the body o' the transaction, just

As when a cook (will Excellency forgive ?) 540

Strips away those long rough superfluous legs

From either side the crayfish, leaving folk

A meal all meat henceforth, no garnishry,

(With your respect, Prince!) — balance nad been kept.

No party blamed the other, — so, starting fair, 545

All subsequent fence of wrong returned by wrong

r the matrimonial thrust and parry, at least

Had followed on equal terms. But, as it chanced,

One party had the advantage, saw the cheat

Of the other first and kept its own concealed : 550

And the luck o' the first discovery fell, beside,

To the least adroit and self-possessed o' the pair.

'T was foolish Pietro and his wife saw first

The nobleman was penniless, and screamed

" We are cheated! "

Such unprofitable noise 555

Angers at all times : but when those who plague,
Do it from inside your own house and home.
Gnats which yourself have closed the curtain round.
Noise goes too near the brain and makes you mad.
The gnats say, Guido used the candle-flame 560

Unfairly, — worsened that first bad of his,
By practising all kinds of cruelty
To oust them and suppress the wail and whine,

TERTIUM QUID, \\t

That speedily he so scared and bullied them.

Fain were they, long before five months had passed, 565

To beg him grant, m>m what was once their wealth,

Just so much as would help them back to Rome

Where, when they finished paying the last doit

O' the dowry, they might beg from door to door.

So say the Comparini — as if it came 570

Of pure resentment for this worse than bad.

That then Violante, feeling conscience prick, *

Confessed her substitution of the child

Whence all the harm came, — and that Pietro first

Bethought him of advantage to himself 575

P the deed, as part revenge, part remedy

For all DiuBcalculation in the pact.

On the other hand " Not sol '' Guido retorts —
^' I am the wron^d, solely, fix)m first to last,
Who gave the dignity I engaged to give, 580

Which was, iS) cannot but continue gain.
My beinff poor was a bye-circumstance,
Miscalcmated piece of untowardness.
Might end to-morrow did heaven's windows ope,
Or uncle die and leave me his estate. 585

You should have put up with the minor flaw,
Getting the main prize of the jewel. If wealth.
Not rank, had been prime object in your thoughts.
Why not have taken the butcher's son, the boy
O' the baker or candlestick-maker P In all the rest, 590

It was yourselves broke compact and played false.
And made a life in common impossible.
Show me the stipulation of our bond
That you should make your profit of being inside
My house, to hustle and edge me out o' the same, 595

•First make a laughing-stock of mine and me,
Then round us in the ears fi-om mom to night
(Because we show wry feces at your mirth)
That you are robbed, starved, beaten and what not!
You fled a hell of your own lighting-up, 600

Pay for your own miscalculation too :
You thought nobility, gained at any price,
Would suit and satisfy, — find the mistake.
And now retaliate, not on yourselves, but me.
And how? By telling me, i' the face of the world, 605

I it is have been cheated all this while,
Abominably and irreparably, — my name
Given to a cur-cast mongrel, a drab's brat,
A beffgar's bye-blow, — thus depriving me
Of what yourselves allege the whole and sole 610

i« THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Aim on my part T the marriage, — money to-wit.

This thrust I have to parry by a gnard

Which leaves me open to a counter-thrust

On the other side, — no way but there *s a pass

Clean through me. If I prove, as I hope to do^ 615

There ^s not one truth in this your odious tale

O^ the buying, selling, substituting — prove

Your daughter was and is your daughter, — well,

And her dowry hers and therefore mine, — what then?

Why, where ^s the appropriate punishment for this 620

Enormous lie hatched for mere malice' sake

To ruin me? Is that a wrong or no?

And if I try revenge for remedy.

Can I well make it strong and bitter enough?^

I anticipate however — only ask, 625

Which of the two here sinned most? A nice point!
Which brownness is least black, — decide who can,
Waeer-by-battle-of-ch eating! What do you say,
Highness ? Suppose, your Excellency, we leave
The question at this stage, proceed to the next, 630

Both parties step out, fight their prize upon.
In the eye o' the world?

They brandish law 'sainst law ;
The grinding of such blades, each parry of ea(£.
Throws terrible sparks off, over and above the thrusts,
And makes more sinister the fight, to the eye, 635

Than the very wounds that follow. Beside the tale
Which the Comparini have to re-assert,
They needs must write, print, publish all abroad
The straitnesses of Guidons household life —
The petty nothings we bear privately 640

But break down under when fools flock to jeer.
What is it all to the facts o^ the couplers case,
How helps it prove Pompilia not their child,
If Guidons mother, brother, kith and kin
Fare ill, lie hard, lack clothes, lack fire, lack food? 645

That 's one more wrong than needs.

On the other hand,
Guido, — whose cue is to dispute the truth
O' the tale, reject the shame it throws on him, —
He may retaliate, fieht his foe in turn

And welcome, we allow. Ay, but he canH! 650

He ^ at home, only acts by prox}* here :
Law may meet law, — but all the gibes and jeers.
The superfluity of naughtiness.
Those lil>cls on his House, — how reach at them?
Two hateful £aces, grinning all a-glow, 655

TERTIUM QUID. 123

Not only make parade of spoil they filched,

But foul him from the height of a tower, you see.

Unluckily temptation is at hand —

To take revenge on a trifle overlooked,

A pet lamb they have left in reach outside, 660

Whose first bleat, when he plucks the wool away,

Will strike the grinners grave : his wife remains

Who, four months earlier, some thirteen years old,

Never a mile away from mother^s house

And petted to the height of her desire, 665

Was told one morning that her fate had come.

She must be married — just as, a month before,

Her mother told her she must comb her hair

And twist her curls into one knot behind.

These fools forgot their pet lamb, fed with flowersi 670

Then Hiced as usual by the bit of cake,

Out of the bower into the butchery.

Plague her, he plagues them threefold : but how plague?

The world may have its word to say to that :

You can^t do some things with impunity. 675

What remains . . . weU, it is an u^ly thought . . .

But that he drive herself to plague herself —

Herself disgrace herself and so disgrace

Who seek to disgrace Guido?

There 's the due
To what else seems ^tuitously vile, 680

If, as is said, from this time forth the rack
Was tried upon Pompilia : \ was to wrench
Her limbs into exposure that brings shame.
The aim o' the cruelty being so crueller still,
That cruelty almost grows compassion^s self 685

Could one attribute it to mere return
O' the parents' outrage, wrong avenging wrong.
They see in this a deeper deadlier aim.
Not to vex just a body they held dear.

But blacken too a soul they boasted white, 690

And show the world their saint in a lover's arms,
No matter how driven thither, — so they say.

On the other hand, so much is easily said.

And Guido lacks not an apologist.

The pair had nobody but themselves to blame, 695

Being selfish beasts throughout, no less, no more :

— Cared for themselves, their supposed good, nought else,

And brought about the marriage ; good proved bad.

As little they cared for her its victim — nay.

Meant she snould stay behind and take the chance, 700

ia4 THE RING AMD THE BOOK.

If haply they mip;ht wriggle themselves free«

Thev baited their own hook to catch a fish

With this poor worm, failed o^ the prises and then

Sought how to unbait tackle, let worm float

Or sink, amuse the monster while they ^scapod. 705

Under the best stars Hymen brings aDOve,

Had all been honesty on either side,

A common sincere effort to good end,

Still, this would prove a difficult problem, Prince I

— Given, a fair wife, aged thirteen years, 710
A husband poor, care-bitten, sorrow-sunk.

Little, long-nosed, bush-bearded, lantern-jawed,

Forty-six years old, — place the two grown one,

She, cut off sheer from every natural aid.

In a strange town with no familiar face — 71S

He, in his own parade-ground or retreat

If need were, free from challenge, much less check

To an irritated, disappointed will —

How evolve happiness from such a match?

T were hard to serve up a congenial dish 720

Out of these ill-agreeing morsels, Duke,

By the best exercise of the cook^s craft,

Best interspersion of spice, salt and sweet!

But let two ghastly scullions concoct mess

With brimstone, pitch, vitriol and deviPs-dung * — 725

Throw in abuse o' the man, his body and souX

Kith, kin and generation shake all slab

At Rome, Arezzo, for the world to nose.

Then end by publishing, for fiend's arch-prank,

That, over and above sauce to the meat's self, 730

Why, even the meat, bedevilled thus in dish.

Was never a pheasant but a carrion-crow —

Prince, what will then the natural loathing be?

What wonder if this ? — the compound plague o' the pair

Pricked Guido, — not to take the course they hoped, 735

That is, submit him to their statement's truth,

Accept its obvious promise of relief,

And thrust them out of doors the girl again

Since the girPs dowry would not enter there,

— Quit of the one if baulked of the other : no! 740
Rather did rage and hate so work in him.

Their product proved the horrible conceit

That he should plot and plan and bring to pass

His wife might, of her own free will and deed,

Relieve him of her presence, get her gone, 745

And yet leave all the dowry safe behind,

^ DeviTs-dung: assafoetida, a vile smelling drug.

TERTIUM QUID. las

Confirmed his own henceforward past dispute^
While blotting out, as by a belch of hell,
Their triumph in her misery and death.

You see, the man was Aretine, had touch 750

O' the subtle air that breeds the subtle wit ;

Was noble too, of old blood thrice-refined

That shrinks firom clownish coarseness in disgust :

Allow that such an one mav take revenge.

You don't expect he '11 eaten up stone and fling, 755

Or try cross-buttock,^ or whirl quarter-staff ? *

Instead of the honest drubbing clowns bestow.

When out of temper at the dinner spoilt.

On meddling mother-in-law and tiresome wife, —

Substitute for the clown a nobleman, 760

And you have Guido, practising, 't is said,

Immitigably fi"om the very first.

The finer vengeance : this, they say, the fact

O' the famous letter shows — the writing traced

At Guide's instance by the timid wife 765

Over the pencilled words himself writ first —

Wherein she, who could neither write nor read,

Was made unblushingly declare a tale

To the brother, the Abate then in Rome,

How her putative parents had impressed, 770

On their departure, their enjoinment ; bade

"We being safely arrived here, follow, you!

Poison your husband, rob, set fire to ail,

And then by means o' the gallant you procure

With ease, oy helpful eye and ready tongue, 775

Some brave youth ready to dare, do and die.

You shall run off and merrily reach Rome

Where we may live like flies in honey-pot : " —

Such being exact the programme of the course

Imputed her as carried to effect. 780

They also say, — to keep her straight therein,

All sort of torture was piled, pain on pain,

On either side Pompilia's path of life.

Built round about and over against by fear,

Circumvallated month by month, and week 785

By week, and day by day, and hour by hour,

Close, closer and yet closer still with pain.

No outlet fi*om the encroaching pain save just

Where stood one saviour like a piece of heaven,

> Cross-buttcck : a blow across the back. » Quarter-staff: a long, stout staff

126 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Heirs arms would strain round but for this blue gap. 790

She, they say further, first tried every chink,

Every imaginable break T the fire.

As way of escape : ran to the Commissary,

Who oade her not malign his friend her spouse ;

Flung herself thrice at the Archbishop's feet, 795

Where three times the Archbishop let her lie,

Spend her whole sorrow and sob mil heart forth,

And then took up the slight load fi'om the ground

And bore it back for husband to chastise, —

Mildly of course, — but natural right is right. 800

So went she slipping ever yet catching at help,

Missing the high till come to lowest and last,

To-wit a certain friar of mean degree.

Who heard her story in confession, wept.

Crossed himself, showed the man within the monk. 805

"Then, will you save me, you the one i' the world?

I cannot even write my woes, nor put

My prayer for help in words a friend may read, —

I no more own a coin than have an hour

Free of observance, — I was watched to church, 810

Am watched now, shall be watched back presently, —

How buy the skill of scribe i' the market-place ?

Pray you, write down and send whatever I say

O' the need I have my parents take me hence ! "

The good man rubbed his eyes and could not choose — 815

Let her dictate her letter in such a sense

That parents, to save breaking down a wall.

Might lift her over : she went back, heaven in heart.

Then the good man took counsel of his couch.

Woke and thought twice, the second thought the best : 820

" Here am I, foolish body that I be,

Caueht all but pushing, teaching, who but I,

My betters their plain duty, — what, I dare

Help a case the Archbishop would not help.

Mend matters, peradventure, God loves mar? 825

What hath the married life but strifes and plagues

For proper dispensation? So a fool

Once touched the ark, — poor Uzzah ^ that I am!

Oh married ones, much rather should I bid.

In patience all of ye possess your souls! 830

This life is brief and troubles die with it :

Where were the prick to soar up homeward else?"

So saying, he burnt the letter he had writ,

Said Ave for her intention, in its place,

^ U%%ak : a Samuel, vi. 6, 7; z Chronicles xiii. zo (Hophni was wrongly put for Uzz«h
in earlier editions).

TERTIUM QUID, 127

Took snuff and comfort, and had done with all. 835

Then the grim arms stretched yet a little more

And each touched each, all but one streak i^ the midst,

Whereat stood Caponsacchi, who cried, " This way.

Out by me ! Hesitate one moment more

And the fire shuts out me and shuts in you! 840

Here my hand holds you life out! " Whereupon

She clasped the hand, which closed on hers and drew

Pompilia out o' the circle now complete.

Whose fault or shame but Guidons? — ask her friends.

But then this is the wife's — Pompilia's tale — 845

Eve's . . . no, not Eve's, since Eve, to speak the truth,

Was hardly £dlen (our candor might pronounce)

When simply saying in her own defence

" The serpent tempted me and I did eat."

So much of paradisal nature. Eve's ! 850

Her daughters ever since prefer to urge

^^Adam so starved me I was fain accept

The apple any serpent pushed my way."

What an elaborate theory have we here,

Ingeniously nursed up, pretentiously 855

Brought forth, pushed forward amia trumpet-blast,

To account for the thawing of an icicle.

Show us there needed iEtna vomit flame

Ere run the crystal into dew-drops ! Else,

How, unless hell broke loose to cause the step, 860

How could a married lad^ go astray ?

Bless the fools! And 'tis just this way they are blessed.

And the world wags still, — because fools are sure

— Oh, not of my wife nor your daughter! No!

But of their own : the case is altered quite. 865

Look now, — last week, the lady we all love, —

Daughter o' the couple we all venerate,

Wife of the husband we all cap before,

Mother o' the babes we all breathe blessings on, —

Was caught in converse with a negro page. 870

Hell thawed that icicle, else " Why was it —

Why?" asked and echoed the fools. "Because, you fools, — "

So did the dame's self answer, she who could.

With that fine candor only forthcoming

When 't is no odds whether withheld or no — 875

" Because my husband was the saint you say.

And, — with that childish goodness, absurd faith.

Stupid self-satisfaction, you so praise, —

Saint to you, insupportable to me.

Had he, — instead of calling me fine names, 880

128 THE RING AND THE BOOK

Lucretia ^ and Susanna^ and so forth,

And curtaining Correggio carefully

Lest I be taught that I^da ' had two legs, —

— But once never so little tweaked my nose

For peeping through my fan at Carnival^ 885

Confessing thereby *• I have no easy task —

I need use all my powers to hold you mine,

And then, — why ^t is so doubtful if they serve,

That — take this, as an earnest of despair! *

Why, we were quits : I had wiped the harm away, 890

Thought * The man fears me ! ' and foregone revenge."

We must not want all this elaborate work

To solve the problem why young Fancy-and-flesh

Slips from the dull side of a spouse in years.

Betakes it to the breast of Brisk-and-bold 895

Whose love-scrapes furnish talk for all the town!

Accordingly one word on the other side

Tips over the piled-up fabric of a tale.

Guide says — that is, alwavs, his friends say—

It is unlikely from the wicKedness, 900

That any man treat any woman so.

The letter in question was her very own,

Unprompted and unaided : she could write—

As able to write as ready to sin, or free.

When there was danger^ to deny both facts. 905

He bids you mark, herself from first to last

Attributes all the so-styled torture just

To jealousy, — jealousy of whom but just

This very Caponsacchi ! How suits here

This witn the other alleged motive, Prince? 910

Would Guido make a terror of the man

He meant should tempt the woman, as they chatge?

Do you fright your hare that you may eaten your hare?

Consider too, the charge was made and met

At the proper time and place where proofs were plain — 915

Heard patiently and disposed of thoroughly

By the highest powers, possessors of most light,

The Governor lor the law, and the Archbishop

For the gospel : which acknowledged primacies,

'T is impudently pleaded, he could warp 920

Into a tacit partnership with crime —

He being the while, believe their own account,

> Lucreiia : wife of Collatinus, whose * Susanna : wife of Joacim, wrongly ac-
praise of her above the wives of Tarquin and cased and condemned to death, but proved
others was proved by finding her spinning at innocent by Daniel, and her accusers shown
home, while the other wives were found danc- to be the guilty ones. See Apocrypha,
ing and revelling. ^ Leda : Correggio's picture of Leda and

tb« Swan, now in the Berlin Museum,

TERTWhf QUID. 129

Impotent, penniless and miserable I

He further asks — Duke, note the knotty point! —•

How he, — concede him skill to play such part 925

And drive his wife into a gaUant's arms,--

Could bring the gallant to play his part too

And stand with arms so opportunely wide?

How bring this Caponsacchi, — with whom, friends

And foes alike agree, throughout his life 930

He never interchanged a civil word

Nor lifted courteous cap to — him how bend

To such observancy of beck and call,

— To undertake this strange and perilous feat

For the good of Guido, using, as the lure, 935

Pompilia whom, himself and she avouch.

He had nor spoken with nor seen, indeed,

Bevond sight in a public theatre,

Wnen she wrote letters (she that could not write I)

The importunate shamelessly-protested love 940

Which brought him, though reluctant, to her feet.

And forced on him the plunge which, howsoever

She might swim up i^ the whirl, must bury him

Under abysmal black : a priest contrive

No better, no amour to be hushed up, 945

But open flight and noon-day infamy?

Try and concoct defence for such revolt!

Take the wife^s tale as true, say she was wronged, —

Pray, in what rubric of breviary

Do you find it registered — the part of a priest 950

Is — that to right wrongs from the church he skip,

Go journeying with a woman that 's a wife,

And be pursued, overtaken and captured . . . how?

In a lay-dress, playing the kind sentinel

Where the wijfe sleeps (says he who best should know) 955

And sleeping, sleepless, both have spent the night!

Could no one else be found to serve at need —

No woman — or if man, no safer sort

Than this not well-reputed turbulence ?

Then, look into his own account o^ the case! 960

He, being the stranger and astonished one,

Yet received protestations of her love

From lady neither known nor cared about :

Love, so protested, bred in him disgust

After the wonder, — or incredulity, 965

Such impudence seeming impossible.

But, soon assured such impudence might be.

When he had seen with his own eyes at last

Letters thrown down to him i' the very street

From behind lattice where the lady lurked, 970

130 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And read their passionate summons to her side —

Why then, a thousand thoughts swarmed up and in^ ->

How he had seen her once, a moment's space,

Observed she was both young and beautitiil,

Heard everywhere report she suffered much 975

From a jealous husband thrice her age, — in short

There flashed the propriety, expediency

Of treating, trying might they come to terms^

— At all events, granting the interview

Prayed for, one so adapted to assist 980

Decision as to whether he advance.

Stand or retire, in his benevolent mood!

Therefore the interview befell at length ;

And at this one and only interview.

He saw the sole and single course to take — 985

Bade her dispose of him, head, heart and hand.

Did her behest and braved the consequence,

Not for the natural end, the love of man

For woman whether love be virtue or vice,

But, please you, altogether for pity's sake— 990

Pity of innocence and helplessness!

And how did he assure himself of both?

Had he been the house-inmate, visitor,

Eye-witness of the described martyrdom,

So, competent to pronounce its remedy 995

Ere rush on such extreme and desperate course—

Involving such enormity of harm.

Moreover, to the husband judged thus, doomed

And damned without a word in his defence?

Not he ! the truth was felt by instinct here, 1000

— Process which saves a world of trouble and time.
There 's the priest's story : what do you say to it
Trying its truth by your own instinct too.

Since that's to be the expeditious mode?

" And now, do hear my version," Guido cries : 1005

'^ I accept argument and inference both.

It would indeed have been miraculous

Had such a confidency sprung to birth

With no more fanning from acquaintanceship

Than here avowed by my wife and this priest. loio

Only, it did not : you must substitute

The old stale unromantic way of fault.

The commonplace adventure, mere intrigue

In prose form with the unpoetic tricks,

Cheatings and lies : they used the hackney chair 1015

Satan jaunts forth with, shabby and serviceable,

No gilded gimcrack-novelty from below.

To bowl you along thither, swift and sure.

TERTIUM QUID, 131

That same officious go-between, the wench

Who gave and took the letters of the two, 1020

Now ofifers self and service back to me :

Bears testimony to visits night by night

When all was safe, the husband far and away, —

To many a timely slipping out at large

By light o* the morning-star, ere he should wake. 1025

And when the fugitives were found at last,

Why, with them were found also, to belie

What protest they might make of innocence,

All documents yet wanting, if need were,

To establish guilt in them, disgrace in me — 1030

The chronicle o' the converse from its rise

To culmination in this outrage : read!

Letters from wife to priest, from priest to wife, —

Here they are, read and say where they chime in

With the other tale, superlative purity 1035

O^ the pair of saints ! I stand or fall by these.^*

But then on the other side again, — how say

The pair of saints ? That not one word is theirs —

No syllable o' the batch or writ or sent

Or yet received by either of the two. 1040

" Found," says the priest, " because he needed them,

Failing all other proofs, to prove our &ult.

So, here they are, just as is natural.

Oh yes — we had our missives, each of us !

Not these, but to the full as vile, no doubt : 1045

Hers as from me, — she could not read, so burnt, —

Mine as from her, — I burnt because I read.

Who forged and found them? Cut prof uerint ! " *

(I take the phrase out of your Highness' mouth)

" He who would gain by her fault and my fall, 1050

The trickster, schemer and pretender — he

Whose whole career was lie entailing lie

Sought to be sealed truth by the worst lie last!"

Guido rejoins — " Did the other end o' the tale

Match this beginning ! 'T is alleged I prove 1055

A murderer at the end, a man of force

Prompt, indiscriminate, effectual : good !

Then what need all this trifling woman's-work.

Letters and embassies and weak intrigue.

When will and power were mine to end at once 1060

Safely and surely? Murder had come first

Not last with such a man, assure yourselves!

* Cuiprofuerini : whom they might profit.

132 THE RING AJVD THE BOOK.

The silent acquetta,^ stilling at command —

A drop a day i' the wine or soup, the dose, —

The shattering beam that breakis above the bed 1065

And beats out brains, with nobody to blame

Except the wormy age which eats even oak, —

Nay, the staunch steel or trusty cord, — who cans

r the blind old palace, a pitfall at each step,

With none to see, much more to interpose 1070

O' the two, three, creeping house-dog-servant-thingB

Born mine and bred mine? Had I willed gross death,

I had found nearer paths to thrust him prey

Than this that goes meandering here and there

Through half the world and cans down in its course 1075

Notice and noise, — hate, vengeance, should it fail.

Derision and contempt though it succeed!

Moreover, what o^ the future son and heir?

The unborn babe about to be called mine, —

What end in heaping all this shame on him, 1080

Were I indifferent to my own black share?

Would I have tried these crookednesses, say,

Willing and able to effect the straight? "

** Ay, would you! '' — one may hear the priest retort,
"Being as you are, i' the stock, a man of guile, 1085

And ruffianism but an added graft.
You, a bom coward, try a coward's arms,
Trick and chicane, — and only when these fail
Does violence follow, and like fox you bite
Caught out in stealing. Also, the disgrace 1090

You hardly shrunk at, wholly shrivelled her :
You plunged her thin white delicate hand P the flatte
Along with your coarse horny brutish fist.
Held them a second there, then drew out both
— Yours roughed a little, hers ruined through and through.
' Your hurt would heal forthwith at ointment's touch * — 1096
Namely, succession to the inheritance
Which bolder crime had lost you : let things change,
The birth ^o' the boy warrant the bolder cnme,
Why, murder was determined, dared and done. iioo

For me," the priest proceeds with his reply,
** The look o' the thmg, the chances of mistake,
All were against me, — that, I knew the first :
But, knowmg also what my duty was,

I did it : I must look to men more skilled 1 105

In reading hearts than ever was the world.'^

^ Acqufff^ ; A^jua T^gUixia^ a poisonous liquid much used in Italy in the seventeenth
century.

TERTIUM QUID. I33

Highness, decide! Pronounce, Her Excellency!

Or . . . even leave this argument in doubt,

Account it a fit matter, taken up

With all its £Eu:es, manifold enough, 11 10

To ponder on — what fronts us, the next stagey

Next legal process ? Guido, in pursuit.

Coming up with the fugitives at the inn,

Causedboth to be arrested then and there

And sent to Rome for judgment on the case — 11 15

Thither, with all his armory of proofs.

Betook himself: \ is there we ^11 meet him new^

Waiting the further issue.

Here you smile
" And never let him henceforth dare to plead, —
Of all pleas and excuses in the world 11 20

For any deed hereafter to be done, —
His irrepressible wrath at honoris wound!
Passion and madness irrepressible ?

<< Why, Count and cavalier, the husband comes
And catches foe i' the very act of shame! 1125

There's man to man, — nature must have her way, —
We look he should have cleared things on the spot.
Yes, then, indeed — even tho' it prove he erred —
Though the ambiguous first appearance, mount
Of sond injury, melt soon to mist, 1 130

Still, — had he slain the lover and the wife —
Or, since she was a woman and his wife.
Skin him, but stript her naked to the skin
Or at best left no more of an attire

Than patch sufficient to pin paper to, 1135

Some one love-letter, infamy and all,
As passport to the Paphos ^ fit for such.
Safe-conduct to her natural home the stews, —
Good! One had recos^nized the power o' the pulse.
But when he stands, the stock-fish, — sticks to law — 1140
Offers the hole in his heart, all fresh and warm.
For scrivener's pen to poke and play about —
Can stand, can stare, can tell his beads perhaps,
Oh, let us hear no syllable o' the rage !

Such rage were a convenient afterthought 1 145

For one who would have shown his teeth belike,
Exhibited unbridled rage enough,
Had but the priest been found, as was to hope,
In serge, not silk, with crucifix, not sword :
Whereas the gray innocuous grub, of yore, 11 50

^ PaPhps : Paphos, in Cyprus, was the which was there accompanied by licentious
headquarters of the worship of Aphrodite, rites and practices.

134 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Had hatched a hornet, tickle to the touch,

The priest was metamorphosed into knight.

And even the timid wife, whose cue was — shriek.

Bury her brow beneath his trampling foot, —

She too sprang at him like a pythoness : 1155

So, gulp down rage, passion must be postponed.

Calm be the word! Well, our word is — we brand

This part o' the business, howsoever the rest

Befall."

"Nay," interpose as prompt his friends —
• " This is the world's way! So you adjudge reward 11 60

To the forbearance and legality
Yourselves begin by inculcating — ay.
Exacting from us all with knife at throat!
This one wrong more you add to wrong's amount, —
You publish all, with the kind comment here, 11 65

* Its victim was too cowardly for revenge.' "
Make it your own case, — you who stand apart!
The husband wakes one morn from heavy sleep.
With a taste of poppy in his mouth, — rubs eyes.
Finds his wife flown, his strong box ransacked too, 1170

Follows as he best can, overtakes i' the end.
You bid him use his privilege : well, it seems
He 's scarce cool-blooded enough for the right move —
Does not shoot when the game were sure, but stands
Bewildered at the critical minute, — since 1 175

He has the first flash of the fact alone
To judge from, act with, not the steady lights
Of after-knowledge, — yours who stand at ease
To try conclusions : he 's in smother and smoke,
You outside, with explosion at an end : 11 80

The sulphur may be lightning or a squib —
He '11 know in a minute, but till then, he doubts.
Back from what you know to what he knew not!
Hear the priest's lofty " I am innocent,"
The wife's as resolute " You are guilty! " Come! 11 85

Are you not staggered? — pause, and you lose the move!
Nought left you but a low appeal to law,
" Coward " tied to your tail for compliment!
Another consideration : have it your way!
Admit the worst : his courage failed the Count, 1 190

He 's cowardly like the best o' the burgesses
He 's grown incorporate with, — a very cur,
Kick him from out your circle by all means!
Why, trundled down this reputable stair.
Still, the Church-door lies wide to take him in, 1195

And the Court-porch also : in he sneaks to eadh, —
" Yes, I have lost my honor and my wife.

TERTIUM QUID. 13$

And, being moreover an i^oble hound,

I dare not jeopardize my life for them! '*

Religion and Law lean forward from their chairs, 1200

^ Well done, thou good and faithful servant! '' Ay,

Not only applaud him that be scorned the world.

But punish should he dare do otherwise.

If the case be clear or turbid, — you must say!

Thus, anyhow, it mounted to the stage 1205

In the law-courts, — let's see clearly from this point!

Where the priest tells his story true or false.

And the wife her story, and the husband his,

All with result as happy as before.

The courts would nor condemn nor yet acquit 12 10

This, that or the other, in so distinct a sense

As end the strife to either's absolute loss :

Pronounced, in place of something definite,

^ Each of the parties, whether goat or sheep

r the main, has wool to show and hair to hide. 121 5

Each has brought somehow trouble, is somehow cause

Of pains enough, — even though no worse were proved.

Here is a husband, cannot rule his wife

Without provoking her to scream and scratch

And scour the fields, — causelessly, it may be : 1220

Here is that wife, — who makes her sex our plague.

Wedlock, our bugbear, — perhaps with cause enough :

And here is the truant priest o^ the trio, worst

Or best — each quality oeing conceivable.

Let us impose a little mulct on each. 1225

We punish youth in state of pupilage

Who talk at hours when youth is bound to sleep.

Whether the prattle turn upon Saint Rose *

Or Donna Olimpia * of the Vatican :

' T is talk, talked wisely or unwisely talked, 1230

r the dormitory where to talk at all.

Transgresses, and is mulct : as here we mean.

For the wife, — let her betake herself, for rest,

After her run, to a house of Convertites —

Keep there, as good as real imprisonment : 1235

Being sick and tired, she will recover so.

For the priest, spritely strayer out of bounds.

1 Saint Rose : the Virgin Martyr of Beth- with red and white roses, " the first that ever

lehem who rejected the suit of Hamuel, and any man saw."

therefore was accused by him and condemned * Olimpia : the sister-in-law or the niece

to be burned alive, but the flames caught at of Pope Innocent X. (1644) — both bore the

Hamuel and burned him instead; leaving her name of Olimpia; — but the niece outdid her

anhurti and her stake budded and bloomed mother in voluptuousness.

136 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Who made Arezzo hot to hold him^ — Rome

Profits bv his withdrawal from the scene.

Let him oe relegate to Civita, 1240

Circumscribed by its bounds till matters mend :

There he at least lies out o^ the way of harm

From foes — perhaps from the too friendly fiur.

And finally for the husband, whose rash nile

Has but itself to blame for this ado, — 1245

If he be vexed that, in our judgments dealt.

He fails obtain what he accounts his right,

Let him go comforted with the thought, no less.

That, turn each sentence howsoever he may,

There ^s satisfaction to extract therefrom. 1250

For, does he wish his wife proved innocent?

Well, she ^s not guilty, he may safely urge.

Has missed the stripes dishonest wives endure—

This being a fatherly pat o^ the cheek, no more.

Does he wish her guilty? Were she otherwise 1255

Would she be locked up, set to say her pravers,

Prevented intercourse with the outside world,

And that suspected priest in banishment,

Whose portion is a further help i^ the case?

Oh, ay, you all of you want the other thing, 1260

The extreme of law, some verdict neat, complete,—-

Either, the whole o' the dowry in your poke

With ^11 release from the false wue, to boot,

And heading, hanging for the priest, beside —

Or, contrary, claim freedom for the wife, 1265

Repayment of each penny paid her spouse.

Amends for the past, release for the mture! Such

Is wisdom to the children of this world ;

But we've no mind, we children of the light.

To miss the advantage of the golden mean, 1270

And push things to the steel point/* Thus the courts.

Is it settled so far? Settled or disturbed.

Console yourselves : H is like ... an instance, now! .

You Ve seen the puppets, of Place Navona,* play> —

Punch and his mate, — how threats pass, blows are dealt, 1275

And a crisis comes : the crowd or dap or hiss

Accordingly as disposed for man or wife —

When down the actors duck awhile perdue,

Donning what novel rag-and-feather trim

Best suits the next adventure, new effect : 1 280

And, — by the time the mob is on the move.

With something like a judgment /r(? and can^ —

* Place Navona : an oblong square in which are three fountaint.

TERTIUM QUID. 137

There's a whistle, up a|g;ain the actors pop

In t' other tatter with fresh-tinselled staves.

To re-engage In one last worst fight more 1285

Shsdl show, what you thoug^ht tragedy was farce.

Note, that the dimax and tne crown of things

Invariably is, the devil appears himself,

Armed and accoutred, horns and hoofs and tail I

Just so, nor otherwise it proved — you *11 see : 1290

Move to the murder, never mind the rest I

Guido, at such a general duck-down,
I* the breathing-space, — of wife to convent here^
Priest to his rdegation, and himself

To Arezzo, — had resigned his part perforce 1295

To brother Abate, who bustled, did his best.
Retrieved things somewhat, managed the three suits —
Since, it should seem, there were three suits-at-law
Behoved him look to, still, lest bad grow worse :
First civil suit,^ — the one the parents brought, 1300

Impugning the legitimacy of his wife,
Affirming thence the nullity of her rights :
This was before the Rota, — Molin^s,
That^s judge therC) made that notable decree
Which parUy leaned to Guido, as I said, — 1305

But Pietro had appealed against the same
To the very court will judge what we judge now—
Tommati and his fellows, — Suit the first.
Next civil suit, — demand on the wife's part
Of separation from the husband's bed 131C1

On plea of cruelty and risk to life —
Claims restitution of the dowry paid,
Immunity from paying any more :
This second, the Vicegerent has to jud^e.
.Third and last suit, — this time, a criminal one, — 1315

Answer to, and protection from, both these, —
Guido's complaint of guilt against his wife
In the Tribunal of the Governor,
Venturini, also judge of the present cause.
Three suits of all importance plaguing him, 1320

Beside a little private enterprise
Of Guido's, — essay at a shorter cut.
For Paolo, knowing the right way at Rome,
Had, even while superintending these three suits
I' the regular way, each at its proper court, 1325

Ingeniously made interest with the Pope
To set such tedious regular forms aside.
And, acting the supreme and ultimate judge,
Declare for the husband and against the wifo.

138 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Well, at such crisis and extreme of straits, — 1330

The man at bay, buffeted in this wise, —

Happened the strangest accident of all.

<< Then/^ sigh friends, <^ the last feather broke his back,

Made him forget all possible remedies

Save one — he rushed to, as the sole relief 1335

From horror and the abominable thing.^

" Or rather," laugh foes, " then did there be£dl

The luckiest of conceivable events,

Most pregnant with impunity for him.

Which henceforth turned the flank of all attack, 1340

And bade him do his wickedest and worst^

— The wife's withdrawal from the Convertites,
Visit to the villa where her parents lived,

And birth there of his babe. Divergence here!

I simply take the facts, ask what they show. 1345

First comes this thunderclap of a surprise :

Then follow all the signs and silences

Premonitpry of earthquake. Paolo first

Vanished, was swept off somewhere, lost to Rome :

(Wells dry up, while the sky is sunny and blue). 1350

Then Guido girds himself for enterprise,

Hies to Vittiano, counsels with his steward,

Comes to terms with four peasants young and bold.

And starts for Rome the Holy, reaches her

At very holiest, for 't is Christmas Eve, 1355

And makes straight for the Abaters dried-up font,

The lodge where Paolo ceased to work the pipes.

And then, rest taken, observation made

And plan completed, all in a grim week,

The nve proceed in a body, reach the place, 1360

— Pietro's, at the Paolina, silent, lone,
And stupefied by the propitious snow.

'T is one i' the evening : knock : a voice "Who's there? "

" Friends with a letter from the priest your friend."

At the door, straight smiles old Violante's self. 1365

She fEdls, — her son-in-law stabs through and through,

Reaches through her at Pietro — " Wi3i your son

This is the way to settle suits, good sire! "

He bellows " Mercy for heaven, not for earth!

Leave to confess and save my sinful soul, 1370

Then do your pleasure on the body of me!"

— "Nay, father, soul with body must take its chance! "
He presently got his portion and lay still.

And last, Pompilia rushes here and there

Like a dove among the lightnings in her brake 1375

Falls also : Guidons, this last husbs^n^'s-act*

TERTIUM QUID. 139

He lifts her by the long dishevelled hair,

Holds her away at arm^s length with one hand,

While the other tries if life come from the mouth —

Looks out his whole hearths hate on the shut eves, 1380

Draws a deep satisfied breath, " So — dead at last! "

Throws down the burden on dead Pietro's knees,

And ends all with " Let us away, my boys! "

And, as they left by one door, in at the other

Tumbled the neighbors — for the shrieks had pierced 1385

To the mill and the grange, this cottage and that shed.

Soon followed the Public Force ; pursuit began

Though Guido had the start and chose the road :

So, that same night was he, with the other four.

Overtaken near Baccano, — where they sank 1390

By the way-side, in some shelter meant for beasts,

And now lay heaped together, nuzzling swine.

Each wrapped in bloody cloak, each grasping still

His unwiped weapon, sleeping all the same

The sleep o' the just, — a journey of twenty miles 1395

Brought just and unjust to a level, you see. *

The only one i' the world that suffered aught

By the whole night^s toil and trouble, flight and chase.

Was just the officer who took them, Head

O' the Public Force, — Patrizj, zealous soul, 1400

Who, having but duty to sustain weak flesh.

Got heated, caught a fever and so died :

A warning to the over-vigilant,

— Virtue in a chafe should change her linen quick.

Lest pleurisy get start of providence. 1405

(That's for the Cardinal, and told, I think!)

Well, they bring back the company to Rome

Says Guido, " By your leave, I fain would ask

How you found out 't was I who did the deed?

What put you on my trace, a foreigner, 1410

Supposed in Arezzo, — and assuredly safe

Except for an oversight : who told you, pray?"

" Why, naturally your wife ! " Down Guido drops

O' the horse he rode, — they have to steady and stay.

At either side the brute that bore him, bound, 141 5

So strange it seemed his wife should live and speak!

She had prayed — at least so people tell you now —

For but one thing to the Virgin for herself.

Not simply, as did Pietro 'mid the stabs, —

Time to confess and get her own soul saved — 1420

But time to make the truth apparent, truth

For God's sake, lest men should believe a lie :

140 THE RING AND THE BOOR.

Which seems to have been about the sin^e prajrer

She ever put up, that was granted her.

With this hope in her head, of telling truth, — 1425

Being familiarized with pain, beside, —

She bore the stabbing to a certain pitch

Without a useless cry, was flung for dead

On Pietro^s lap, and so attained her point

Her friends subjoin this — have I done with them? — 1430

And cite the miracle of continued life

(She was not dead when I arrived just now)

As attestation to her probity.

Does it strike your Excellency ? Why, your Highness,

The self-command and even the flnal prayer, 1435

Our candor must acknowledge explicable

As easily by the consciousness of guUt

So, when they add that her confession runs

She was of wifehood one white innocence

In thought, word, act, from first of her short life 1440

To last of it ; praying, i' the face of death.

That God forgive her other sins — not this,

She is charged with and must die for, that she fiuled

Anyway to ner husband : while thereon

Comments the old Religious — " So much good, 1445

Patience beneath enormity of ill,

I hear to my confusion, woe is me.

Sinner that I stand, shamed in the walk and gait

I have practised and grown old in, by a child!" —

Guidons friends shrug the shoulder, << Just this same 1450

Prodigious absolute calm in the last hour

Confirms us, — being the natural result

Of a life which proves consistent to the close.

Having braved heaven and deceived earth throughout,

She braves still and deceives still, gains thereby 1455

Two ends, she prizes beyond earth or heaven :

First sets her lover free, imperilled sore

By the new turn things take : he answers yet

For the part he played : they have summoned him indeed :

The past ripped up, he may be punished still : 1460

What better way of saving him than this ?

Then, — thus she dies revenged to the uttermost

On Guido, drags him with her in the dark.

The lower still the better, do you doubt ?

Thus, two ways, does she love her love to the end, 1465

And hate her hate, — death, hell is no such price

To pay for these, — lovers and haters hold."

But there 's another parry for the thrust.

" Confession," cry folks — "a confession, think!

TERTIUM QUID, 14C

Confession of the moribund is true! ^* 147a

Whidi of them, my wise friends? This public one^

Or the private other we shall never know?

The pnvate may contain, — your casuists teach|—

The acknowlede;ment of, and the penitence for,

That other public one, so people say. 1475

However it be, — we trench on delicate ground,

Her Eminence is peepine o^er the cards, —

Can one find nothmg in oehalf of this

Catastrophe ? Deaf folks accuse the dumb t

You criticise the drunken reel, fooPs speech, 14S0

Maniacal gesture of the man, — we grant!

But who poured poison in his cup, we ask?

Recall the list of his excessive wrongs.

First cheated in his wife, robbed by her kin,

Rendered anon the laughing-stock o* the world 1485

By the story, true or false, of his wife*s birth, —

The last seal publicly apposed to shame

By the open flight of wife and priest, — why, Sirs

Step out of Rome a furlong, would you know

What anotherguess tribunal than ours here, 1490

Mere worldly Court without the help of ^race,

Thinks of just that one incident 0* the flight?

Guido preferred the same compladnt before

The court at Arezzo, bar of the Granduke, —

In virtue of its being Tuscany 1495

Where the offence had rise and flight began,— ^

Self-same complaint he made in the sequel here

Where the offence grew to the full, the flight

Ended : offence and flight, one fact judged twice

By two distinct tribuns&, — what result? 1500

There was a sentence passed at the same time

By Arezzo and confirmed b^ the Granduke,

Which nothing balks of swift and sure* effect

But absence of the guilty, (flight to Rome

Frees them from Tuscan jurisdiction now) 1505

— Condemns the wife to the opprobrious doom

Of all whom law just lets escape from death.

The Stinche, House of Punishment, for life, —

That 's what the wife deserves in Tuscany :

Here, she deserves — remitting with a smile 15 10

To her ^ther^s house, main object of the flight!

The thief presented with the thing he steals I

At this discrepancy of judgments — mad,

The man took on himself the office, judged ;

And the only argument against the use 1515

O^ the law he thus took into his own hands

143 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Is . . . what, I ask you ? — that, revenging wrongs

He did not revenge sooner, kill at first

Whom he killed last! That is the final charge.

Sooner ? What 's soon or late i' the case ? — ask we. 1 52a

A wound i^ the flesh no doubt wants prompt redress ;

It smarts a little to-day, well in a week,

Forgotten in a month ; or never, or now, revenge!

But a wound to the soul ? That rankles worse and worse.

Shall I comfort you, explaining — "Not this once 1525

But now it may be some five hundred times

I called you ruffian, pandar, liar and rogue :

The injury must be less by lapse of time ?

The wrong is a wrong, one and immortal too,

And that you bore it those five hundred times, 1530

Let it rankle unrevenged five hundred years,

Is just five hundred wrongs the more and worse!

Men, plagued this fashion, get to explode this waji

If left no other.

" But we left this man
Many another way, and there's his fault," 1535

T is answered — " He himself preferred our arm
O' the law to fight his battle with. No doubt
We did not open him an armory
To pick and choose from, use, and then reject.
He tries one weapon and fails, — he tries the next 1540

And next : he flourishes wit and common sense,
They fail him, — he plies logic doughtily,
It fails him too, — thereon, discovers last
He has been blind to the combustibles —
That all the while he is a-glow with ire, 1545

Boiling with irrepressible rage, and so
May try explosives and discard cold steel, —
So hires assassins, plots, plans, executes!
Is this the honest self-forgetting rage

We are called to pardon ? Does the furious bull 1 550

Pick out four help-mates from the grazing herd
And journey with them over hill and dale
Till he find his enemy?"

What rejoinder? save
That friends accept our bull-similitude.

Bull-like, — the indiscriminate slaughter, rude 1555

And reckless aggravation of revenge.
Were all i' the way o' the brute who never once
Ceases, amid all provocation more,
To bear in mind the first tormentor, first
Giver o' the wound that goaded him to fight : 1 560

I

TERTIUM QUID. 143

And, though a dozen follow and reinforce

The aggressor, wound in front and wound in flank,

Continues undisturbedly pursuit,

And only after prostrating his prize

Turns on the pettier, makes a general prey. 1565

So Guido rushed against Violante, first

Author of all his wrongSy/ons et arigp^

Maloruttty — drops first, deluge since, — which done.

He finished with the rest. Do you blame a bull ?

In truth vou look as puzzled as ere I preached! 1570

How is that? There are difficulties perhaps

On any supposition, and either side.

Each party wants too much, claims sympathy

For its object of compassion, more tnan just.

Cry the wife's friends, " O the enormous crime 1575

Caused by no provocation in the world! "

" Was not the wife a little weak? " — inquire —

" Punished extravagantly, if you please,

But meriting a little punishment?

One treated inconsiderately, say, 1 580

Rather than one deserving not at all

Treatment and discipline o' the harsher sort?"

No, they must have her purity itself.

Quite angel, — and her parents angels too

Of an aged sort, immaculate, word and deed : 1585

At all events, so seeming, till the fiend.

Even Guido, by his folly, forced from them

The untoward avowal of the trick o' the birth.

Which otherwise were safe and secret now.

Why, here you have the awfulest of crimes 1590

For nothing! Hell broke loose on a butterfly!

A dragon born of rose-dew and the moon!

Yet here is the monster! Why he's a mere man —

Bom, bred and brought up in the usual way.

His mother loves him, still his brothers stick 1595

To the good fellow of the boyish games ;

The Governor of his town knows and approves.

The Archbishop of the place knows and assists :

Here he has Cardinal This to vouch for the past,

Cardinal That to trust for the future, — match 1600

And marriage were a Cardinal's making, — in short.

What if a tragedy be acted here

Impossible for malice to improve,

And innocent Guido with his innocent four

Be added, all five, to the guilty three, 1605

S Ftmt *i origa Malorum : the ibunt and origin of erflt.

144 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

That we of these last days be edified

With one full taste o^ the justice of the world?

The long and the short is, truth seems what I show : —

Undoubtedly no pains ought to be spared

To give the mob an inkling of our lights. 1610

It seems unduly harsh to put the man

To the torture, as I hear the court intends.

Though readiest way of twisting out the truth ;

He is noble, and he may be innocent.

On the other hand, if they exempt the man 161 5

(As it is also said they hesitate

On the fair eround, presumptive guilt is weak

r the case of nobility and privilege), —

What crime that ever was, ever will be,

Deserves the torture? Then abolish it! 1620

You see the reduction ctdabsurdum^ Sirs?

Her Excellencr^ must pronounce, in fine !

What, she prefers going and joining play?

Her Highness finds it late, intends retire?

I am of their mind : onlv, all this talk taJked, 1625

T was not for nothing that we talked, I hope?

Both know as much about it, now, at least,

As all Rome : no particular thanks, I begt

(You ^11 see, I have not so advanced m3r8el^

After my teaching the two idiots here! ) 1630

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. US

V.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINI.

[In Book V. Guido, having confessed to the murder under torture, presents hi«
defence, in the course of which he tells the story from his point of view. He makes
the most of the undoubted appearances in bis favor, namely, the cheat perpetrated
upon him by Violante and the elopement of Pompilia : by putting the worst possible
construction upon them, he represents himself as justified in his actions because of
the failure on the part of the so-called parents and Pompilia to fulfil their share
of the agreement, and as goaded on, finally, when he hears of the birth of a child,
to commit the murder as the lawful and only means by which he can vindicate his
outraged honor.]

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,

I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down

Without help, make shift to even speak, you see.

Fortified by the sip of . . . whv \ is wine,

Velletri,^ -^ and not vinegar and gall, 5

So changed and good the times growl Thanks, kind Sir!

Oh, but one sip^s enough! I want my head

To save my neck, there ^s work awaits me still.

How cautious and considerate . . . aie, aie, aie.

Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart lo

An ordinary matter. Law is law.

Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought.

From racking ; but, since law thinks otherwise,

I have been put to the rack : all ^s over now,

And neither wrist — what men style, out of joint : 15

If any harm be, \ is the shoulder-blade.

The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket, — Sirs,

Much could not happen, I was Quick to faint.

Being past my prime of life, and out of health.

In short, I thank you, — yes, and mean the word. 20

Needs must the Court be slow to understand

How this quite novel form of taking pain.

This getting tortured merely in the flesh.

Amounts to almost an agreeable change

In my case, me fastidious, plied too much 25

With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)

To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine.

And, in and out my heart, the play o^ the probe.

•

' VelUtri: wine made at Velletri, whose volcanic soil was especially favorable for vine
culture.

146 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Four years have I been operated on

r the soul, do you see — its tense or tremulous part — 30

My self-respect, my care for a good name.

Pride in an old one, love of kindred — just

A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like.

That looked up to my face when days were dim,

And fancied they found light there — no one spot, 35

Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.

That, and not this you now oblige me with.

That was the Vigil-torment,^ if you please!

The poor old noble House that drew the rags

O' the FranceschinPs once superb array 40

Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by, —

Pluck off these ! Turn the drapery inside out

And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!

Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence

Of the easy-natured Count before this Count, 45

The father I have some slight feeling for.

Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends

Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe.

Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,

Properly push his child to wall one day ! 50

Mimic the tetchy humor, furtive glance.

And brow where half was furious, half fatigued,

O^ the same son got to be of middle age.

Sour, saturnine, — your humble servant here, —

When things go cross and the young wife, he finds 55

Take to the window at a whistle's bid.

And yet demurs thereon, preposterous fool ! —

Whereat the worthies judge he wants advice

And beg to civilly ask what 's evil here.

Perhaps remonstrate on the habit they deem 60

He 's given unduly to, of beating her :

. . . Oh, sure he beats her — why says John so else,

Who is cousin to George who is sib '^ to Tecla's self

Who cooks the meal and combs the lady's hair?

What ! 'T is my wrist you merely dislocate 65

For the future when you mean me martyrdom ?

— Let the old mother's economy alone.

How the brocade-strips saved o' the seamy side
O' the wedding-gown buy raiment for a year ?

— How she can dress and dish up — lordly dish 70
Fit for a duke, lamb's head and purtenance —

With her proud hands, feast household so a week?
No word o' the wine rejoicing God and man
The less when three-parts water? Then, I say,

> Vigil'torment : wot note, I. 97a. * Sid : see note, II. 509.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINL 147

A trifle of torture to the flesh, like yours, 75

While soul is spared such foretaste of hell-fire,

Is naught. But I curtail the catalo^e

Through policy, — a rhetorician^s tnck, —

Because I would reserve some choicer points

O' the practice, more exactly parallel 80

(Having an eye to climax) with what gift,

Eventual grace the Court may have in store

r the way of plague — .what crown of punishments.

When I am hanged or headed,^ time enough

JTo prove the tenderness of only that, 85

Mere heading, hanging, — not their counterpart,

Not demonstration public and precise

That I, having married the monerel of a drab.

Am bound to grant that mongrel-brat, my wife,

Her mother^s birthright-license as is just, — 90

Let her sleep undisturbed, i^ the family style,

Her sleep out in the embraces of a pnest.

Nor disallow their bastard as my heir!

Your sole mistake, — dare I submit so much

To the reverend Court ? — has been in all this pains 95

To make a stone roll down hill, — rack and wrench

And rend a man to pieces, all for what?

Why — make him ope mouth in his own defence.

Show cause for what he has done, the irregular deed,

(Since that he did it, scarce dispute can be) 100

And clear his fame a little, beside the luck

Of stopping even yet, if possible.

Discomfort to his flesh from noose or axe —

For that, out come the implements of law !

May it content my lords the gracious Court 105

To listen only half so patient-long

As I will in that sense profusely speak.

And — fie, they shall not call in screws to help!

I killed Pompilia Franceschini, Sirs ;

Killed too the Comparini, husband, wife, no

Who called themselves, by a notorious lie.

Her father and her mother to ruin me.

There 's the irregular deed : you want no more

Than right interpretation of the same.

And truth so far — am I to understand? 115

To that then, with convenient speed, — because

Now I consider, — yes, despite my boast,

There is an ailing in this omoplat ^

May clip my speech all too abruptly short.

Whatever the good-will in me. Now for truth! 120

^ Headed : old form of beheaded. * Omoplat : shoulder-blade.

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

r the name of the indivisible Trinity!

Will my lords, in the plenitude of their light,

Weigh well that all this trouble has come on me

Through my persistent treading in the paths

Where I was trained to go, — wearing that yoke 125

My shoulder was predestined to receive,

Born to the hereditary stoop and crease?

Noble, I recognized my nobler still,

The Church, my suzerain ; nQ mock-mistress, she ;

The secular owned the spiritual : mates of mine 130

Have thrown their careless hoofs up at her call |

" Forsake the clover and come drag my wain I "

There they go cropping : I protruded nose

To halter, bent my back of docile beast,

And now am whealed,^ one wide wound all of me, 135

For being found at the eleventh hour o^ the day

Padding the mill-track, not neck-deep in grass :

— My one fault, 1 am stiffened by my work,

— My one reward, I help the Court to smile I

I am representative of a great line, 140

One of the first of the old families

In Arezzo, ancientest of Tuscan towns.

When my worst foe is fain to challenge this,

His worst exception runs — not first in rank

But second, noble in the next degree 145

Only ; not malice^ self maligns me more.

So, my lord opposite has composed, we know,

A marvel of a book, sustains the point

That Francis ^ boasts the primacy ^mid saints ;

Yet not inaptly hath his argument 150

Obtained response from yon my other lord

In thesis published with the world^s applause

— Rather \ is Dominic • such post befits :
Why, at the worst, Francis stays Francis still,

Second in rank to Dominic it may be, 155

Still, very saintly, very like our Lord ;

And I at least descend from Guido once

Homager * to the Empire, nought below —

Of which account as proof that, none o^ the line

Having a single gift beyond brave blood, 160

Or able to do ought but give, give, give

In blood and brain, in house and land and cash.

Not get and garner as the vulgar may,

'^healed : marked by strokes. * Dominic : St. Dominic, founder of the

rancis : St. Francis of Assist, founder order of Dominicans, 1170-1221.
order of Franciscans^ x 183-1226. * Homager : one who holds lands subject

to homage.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINI. 149

We became poor as Franda or our Lord.

Be that as it likes you, Sirs, — whenever it chanced 165

Myself grew capable anyway of remark,

(Which was soon — penury makes wit premature) *

This struck me, I was poor who should be rich

Or pay that £Euilt to the world which trifles not

When lineage lacks the flag yet lifts the pole : 170

On, therefore, I must move forthwith, transfer

My stranded sel^ bom fish with gill and fin

Fit for the deep sea, now left flap bare-backed

In slush and sand, a show to crawlers vile

Reared of the low-tide and aright therein. 175

The enviable youth with the old name,

Wide chest, stout arms, sound brow and pricking veins,

A heartftd of desire, man^s natural load,

A brainfiil of belief, the noble^s lot, —

All this life, cramped and gasping, high and dry 180

r the wavers retreat, — the misery, good my loras,

Which made you merriment at Rome of late, —

It made me reason, rather — muse, demand

— Why our bare dropping palace, in the street

Where such-an-one whose ^andfather sold tripe 185

Was adding to his purchased pile a fourth

Tall tower, could hardly show a turret sound?

Why Countess Beatrice, whose son I am.

Cowered in the winter-time as she spun flax,

Blew on the earthen basket of live ash, 190

Instead of jaunting forth in coach and six

Like such-another widow who ne'er was wed?

1 asked my fellows, how came this about?

" Why, Jack, the suttler's child, perhaps the campus,

Went to the wars, fought sturdily, took a town 195

And got rewarded as was natural.

She of the coach and six — excuse me there!

Why, don't you know the story of her friend?

A clown dressed vines on somebody's estate.

His boy recoiled from muck, liked Latin more, 200

Stuck to his pen and got to be a priest.

Till one day . . . don't you mind that telling tract

Against Molinos, the old Cardinal wrote ?^

He penned and dropped it in the patron's desk

Who, deep in thought and absent much of mind, 205

Licensed the thing, allowed it for his own ;

Quick came promotion, — suum cuique^ Count!

> Tract against Molinos : probably Imag- hearsing and confuting the main propositions
inary. Cardinal Cibo, Secretary of State to of Molinos.
Pope Innocent XI., wrote in x686 a tract re- * Snum cuifu* : let each have hit own.

p THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Oh, he can pay for coach and six, be sure! ^

" — Well, let me go, do likewise : war's the word —

That way the Franceschini worked at first, 210

I '11 take my turn, try soldiership." — "What, you?

The eldest son and heir and prop o' the house,

So do you see your duty? Here 's your post.

Hard by the health and altar. (Roam from roof.

This youngster, play the gipsy out of doors, 215

And who keeps kith and kin that fall on us ?)

Stand fast, stick tight, conserve your gods at home! "

" — Well then, the quiet course, the contrary trade!

We had a cousin amount us once was Pope,

And minor glories manifold. Try the Church, 220

The tonsure, and, — since heresy 's but half-slain

Even by the Cardinal's tract he thought he wrote, —

Have at Molinos! " — " Have at a fool's head!

You a priest? How were marriage possible?

There must be Franceschini till time ends — 225

That 's your vocation. Make your brothers priests,

Paul shall be porporate,^ and Girolamo step

Red-stockinged in the presence when you choose,

But save one Franceschini for the age !

Be not the vine but dig and dung its root, 230

Be not a priest but gird up priesthood's loins,

With one foot in Arezzo stnde to Rome,

Spend yourself there and brine the purchase back!

Go hence to Rome, be guided!"

So I was.
I turned alike from the hill-side zig-zag thread 235

Of way to the table-land a soldier takes.
Alike from the low-lying pasture-place
Where churchmen graze, recline and ruminate,
— Ventured to mount no platform like my lords
Who judge the world, bear brain I dare not brag — 240

But stationed me, might thus the expression serve,
As who should fetch and carry, come and go.
Meddle and make i' the cause my lords love most —
The public weal, which hangs to the law, which holds
By the Church, which happens to be through God himself. 245
Humbly I helped the Church till here I stand, —
Or would stand but for the omoplat, you see !
Bidden qualify for Rome, I, having a field,
Went, sold it, laid the sum at Peter's foot :
Which means — I settled home-accounts with speed, 250

Set apart just a modicum should suffice

> PorforaU : wearing purple, the color of a cardinal.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINL 151

To hold the villa^s head above the waves

Of weed inundating its oil and wine,

And prop roof, stanchion wall o^ the palace so

As to keep breath i^ the body, out of heart 255

Amid the advance of neighboring loftiness —

(People like building where they used to beg) —

Till succored one day, — shared the residue

Between my mother and brothers and sisters there^

Black-eyed babe Donna This and Donna That, 260

As near to starving as might decently be,

— Left myself journey-charges, change of suit,
A purse to put i' the pocket of the Groom '

O^ the Chamber of the patron, and a glove

With a ring to it for the digits of the niece 265

Sure to be helpful in his household, — then

Started for Rome, and led the life prescribed.

Close to the Church, though clean of it, I assumed

Three or four orders of no consequence,

— They cast out evil spirits and exorcise, 270
For example ; bind a man to nothing more.

Give clerical savor to his layman^s-salt.

Facilitate his claim to loaf and fish

Should miracle leave, beyond what feeds the flock,

Fragments to brim the basket of a friend — 275

While, for the world^s sake, I rode, danced and gamed,

Quitted me like a courtier, measured mine

With whatsoever blade had fame in fence,

— Ready to let the basket go its round

Even though my turn was come to help myself 280

Should Dives count on me at dinner-time

As just the understander of a joke

And not immoderate in repartee.

Utrique sic paratus}^ Sirs, I said,

" Here," (in the fortitude of years fifteen, 285

So good a pedagogue is penury)

"Here wait, do service, — serving and to serve!

And, in due time, I nowise doubt at all.

The recognition of my service comes.

Next year I ^m only sixteen. I can wait." 290

I waited thirty years, may it please the Court :

Saw meanwhile many a denizen o^ the dung

Hop, skip, jump o^er my shoulder, make him wings

And fly aloft, — succeed, in the usual phrase.

Every one soon or late comes round by Rome : 295

Stand still here, you Ul see all in turn succeed.

^ Uiriqut sic Paratut : thus prepared for either.

l$t THE RING AND THE BOOK:.

Why, look you, so and so, the phjrsician here>

My father^s lacquey^s son we sent to school,

Doctored and dosed this Eminence and that.

Salved the last Pope his certain obstinate sore, 300

Soon bought land as became him, names it now :

I grasp bell at his griffin-guarded gate.

Traverse the half-mile avenue, — a term,*

A cypress, and a statue, three and three, —

Deliver message from mjr Monsignor, 305

With varletnr at lounge 1' the vestibule

I 'm barred from who bear mud upon my shoe.

My father's chaplain's nephew, Chamberlain, —

Nothing less, please you! — courteous all the same,

— He does not see me though I wait an hour 310

At his staircase-landing 'twixt the brace of busts,

A noseless Sylla, Marius ^ maimed to match,

My father gave him for a hexastich •

Made on my birthday, — but he sends me down.

To make amends, that relic I prize most — 315

The unburnt end o' the veiy candle, Sirs,

Purfled* with paint so prettily round and round,

He carried in such state last Peter's-day, —

In token I, his gentleman and squire.

Had held the bridle, walked his managed mule 320

Without a tittup '^ the procession through.

Nay, the official, — one you know, sweet lords ! —

Who drew the warrant for my transfer late

To the New Prisons' from Tordinona,^ — he

Graciously had remembrance — "Francesc . . .ha? 325

His sire, now — how a thing shall come about! —

Paid me a dozen florins above the fee.

For drawing deftly up a deed of sale

When troubles fell so thick on him, good heart.

And I was prompt and pushing ! By all means! 330

At the New Prisons be it his son shall lie, —

Anything for an old friend! " and thereat

Signed name with triple flourish underneath.

These were my fellows, such their fortunes now.

While I — kept fasts and feasts innumerable, 335

Matins and vespers, functions to no end

* Term: a figure of Terminus, the god of « New Prisons : built by Innocent X.,
boundaries, consisting of a bust ending in a were the first prisons on the cellular system
rectangular pedestal. in Europe.

* Sy.'/a^ Marttis : Roman generals. ^ Tordinona : Tower of Nona, used as a
' Hexastich : stanza of six lines. prison, and destroyed in 1690 ; therefore

* Purfted : decorated. Guido could not have been imprisoned in it.
B Tittup : a skittish prance or cmler.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim, 153

r the train of Monsignor and Eminence,

As gentleman-squire, and for my zeaPs reward

Have rarely missed a place at the table-foot

Except when some Ambassador, or such like, 340

Brought his own people. Brief, one day I felt

The tick of time inside me, turning-point

And slight sense there was now enough of this :

That I was near my seventh climacteric.

Hard upon, if not over, the middle life, 345

And although fed by the east-wind, fulsome-fine

With foretaste of the Land of Promise, still

My gorge gave symptom it might play me false ;

Better not press it mrther, — be content

With livine and dying only a nobleman, 350

Who merely had a father great and rich.

Who simply had one greater and richer yet,

And so on back and back till first and best

Began i' the night ; I finish in the day.

" The mother must be getting old," I said ; 355

" The sisters are well wedded away, our name

Can manage to pass a sister off, at need.

And do for dowry ; both my brothers thrive —

Regular priests they are, nor, bat-like, 'bide

'Twixt flesh and fowl with neither privilege. 360

My spare revenue must keep me and mine.

I am tired : Arezzo's air is good to breathe ;

Vittiano, — one limes ^ flocks of thrushes there ;

A leathern coat costs little and lasts long :

Let me bid hope good-bye, content at home ! '' 365

Thus, one day, 1 disbosomed me and bowed.

Whereat began the little buzz and thrill

O' the gazers round me ; each face brightened up :

As when at your Casino, deep in dawn,

A gamester says at last, " I play no more, 370

Forego gain, acquiesce in loss, withdraw

Anyhow : " and the watchers of his ways,

A trifle struck compunctious at the word.

Yet sensible of relief, breathe free once more.

Break up the ring, venture polite advice — 375

" How, Sir? So scant of heart and hope indeed?

Retire with neither cross nor pile from play ? —

So incurious, so short-casting? — give your chance

To a younger, stronger, bolder spirit belike.

Just when luck turns and the fine throw sweeps all ? " 380

Such was the chorus : and its good-will meant —

" See that the loser leave door handsomely I

' Limes : ensnares.

154 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

There ^s an ill look, — it ^s sinister, spoils sport.

When an old bruised and battered year-by-year

Fighter with fortune, not a penny in poke, 385

Reels down the steps of our estaolislunent

And staggers on broad daylight and the world,

In shagrag beard and doleful doublet, drops

And breaks his heart on the outside : people prate

< Such is the profit of a trip upstairs!* 390

Contrive he sidle forth, baulked of the blow

Best dealt by way of moral, bidding down

No curse but blessings rather on our heads

For some poor prize he bears at tattered breast,

Some palpable sort of kind of good to set 395

Over and against the grievance : give him quick! ^

Whereon protested Paul, "Go hang yourselves!

Leave him to me. Count Guido and brother of mine,

A word in your ear! Take courage, since &int heart

Ne^er won . . . aha, fair lady, donH men say? 400

There 's a sorsf^ there 's a right Virgilian dip! *

Do you see the happiness o^ the hint? At worst,

If the Church want no more of you, the Court

No more, and the Camp as little, the ingrates, — come.

Count you are counted : still you Ve coat to back, 405

Not cloth of eold and tissue, as we hoped,

But c]oth with sparks and spangles on its frieze

From Camp, Court, Church, enough to make a shine,

Entitle you to carry home a wife

With the proper dowry, let the worst betide! 410

Why, it was just a wife you meant to take!**

Now, PauPs advice was weighty : priests should know :

And Paul apprised me, ere the week was out,

That Pietro and Violante, the easy pair,

The cits enough, with stomach to be more, 415

Had just the daughter and exact the sum

To truck « for the quality of myself: " She *s youn^

Pretty and rich : you *re noble, classic, choice.

Is it to be a match ? ** "A match,** said I.

Done ! He proposed all, I accepted all, 420

And we performed all. So I said and did

Simply. As simply followed, not at first

But with the outbreak of misfortune, still

One comment on the saying and doing — "What?

No blush at the avowal you dared buy 425

^ S*rt : lot * Truck : exchange.

> Thfrt's « ri^i VirfOmn d^.* tlie
Romans used to open their Virgil at ran<loni
'or fuidancc

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCmm. 155

A girl of age beseems your granddaughter,
Like ox or ass ? Are nesh and blooda ware ?
Are heart and soul a chattel ? ^*

Softly, Sirs!
Will the Court of its charity teach poor me
Anxious to learn, of anv way i^ the world, 430

Allowed by custom and convenience, save
This same which, taught from my youth up, I trod?
Take me along with you ; where was the wrong step?
If what I gave in barter, style and state
And all that hangs to Franceschinihood, 435

Were worthless, — why, society goes to fi;round,
Its rules are idiot Vrambling. Honor of birth, —
If that thing has no value, cannot buy
Something with value of another sort.

You Ve no reward nor punishment to ^ive 440

V the giving or the taking honor ; straight
Your social fabric, pinnacle to base.
Comes down a-clatter, like a house of cards.
Get honor, and keep honor free from flaw,
Aim at still higher honor, — gabble o^ the goose! 445

Go bid a second blockhead like myself
Spend fifty years in guarding bubbles of breath,
Soapsuds with air i^ the belly, gilded brave,
Guarded and guided, all to break at touch
O^ the first young girPs hand and first old fooPs purse! 450
All my privation and endurance, all
Love, lovalty and labor dared and did,
Fiddle-ae-dee! — why, doer and darer both, —
Count Guido Franceschini had hit the mark
Far better, spent his life with more effect, 455

As a dancer or a prizer, trades that pay!
On the other hand, bid this buffoonery cease.
Admit that honor is a privilege.
The question follows, privilege worth what?
Why, worth the market-price, — now up, now down, 460

Just so with this as with all other ware :
Therefore essay the market, sell your name,
Style and condition to who buys them best!
" Does my name purchase," had I dared inquire,
"Your niece, my lord? " there would have been rebuff 465
Though courtesy, your Lordship cannot else —
" Not altogether! Rank for rank may stand :
But I have wealth beside, you — poverty ;
Your scale flies up there : Did a second bid
Rank too and wealth too!" Reasoned like yourself! 470

But was it to you I went with goods to sell?

156 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

This time \ was my scale quietly kissed the ground.

Mere rank against mere wealth — some youth beside,

Some beauty too, thrown into the bargain, just

As the buver likes or lets alone. I thou|;ht 475

To deal o^ the square : others find fault, it seems :

The thing is, those my offer most concerned,

Pietro, Violante, cried they fair or foul?

What did they make o' the terms? Preposterous terms?

Why then accede so promptly, close with such 480

Nor take a minute to chaffer? Bargain struck.

They straight grew bilious, wished their money back,

Repented them, no doubt : why, so did I,

So did your Lordship, if town-talk be true,

Of paying a full farm^s worth for that piece 485

By Pietro of Cortona ^ — probably

His scholar Giro Ferri* may have retouched —

You caring more for color than design —

Getting a little tired of cupids too.

That's incident to all the folk who buy! 490

I am charged, I know, with gilding fact by fraud ;

I falsified and fabricated, wrote

Myself down roughly richer than I prove.

Rendered a wrong revenue, — grant it aU!

Mere grace, mere coquetry such fraud, I say : 495

A flourish round the figures of a sum

For fashion's sake, that deceives nobody.

The veritable backbone, understood

Essence of this same bargain, blank and bare.

Being the exchange of quality for wealth, — 500

What may such fancy-flights be ? Flecks of oil

Flirted by chapmen where plain dealing grates.

I may have dripped a drop — "My name I sell ;

Not but that I too boast my wealth" — as they,

" — We bring you riches ; still our ancestor 505

Was hardly the rapscallion folk saw flogged.

But heir to we know who, were rights of force! "

They knew and I knew where the backbone lurked

r the writhings of the bargain, lords, believe!

I paid down all engaged for, to a doit, 510

Delivered them just that which, their life long,

They hungered in the hearts of them to gain —

Incorporation with nobility thus

In word and deed : for that they gave me wealth.

But when they came to try their gain, my gift, 515

Quit Rome and qualify for Arezzo, take

"^ Pietro of Cortona : mainly a scenic and * Ciro Ferri: a pupil of Q>rtona who
fresco painter, 1596-1669. imitated his master, X634-Z689.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim, 157

The tone o^ the new sphere that absorbed the old,

Put away gossip Tack and goody Joan

And go become familiar with the Great,

Greatness to touch and taste and handle now, — 520

Why then, — they found that all was vanity,

Vexation, and what Solomon describes!

The old abundant city-fare was best.

The kindly warmth o^ the commons, the ^lad dap

Of the equal on the shoulder, the frank gnn 525

Of the underling at all so many spoons

Fire-new at neighborly treat, — best, best and best

Beyond compare ! — down to the loll itself

O' the pot-house settle, — better such a' bench

Than the stiff crucifixion by my dais 530

Under the piecemeal damask canopy

With the coroneted coat of arms a-top!

Poverty and privation for pride^s sake.

All they engaged to easily brave and bear, —

With the fit upon them and their brains a-work, — 535

Proved unendurable to the sobered sots.

A banished prince, now, will exude a juice

And salamander-like support the flame :

He dines on chestnuts, chucks the husks to help

The broil o' the brazier, pays the due baioc,^ 540

Goes off light-hearted : his grimace begins

At the funny humors of the christening-feast

Of friend the money-lender, — then he *s touched

By the flame and frizzles at the babe to kiss !

Here was the converse trial, opposite mind : 545

Here did a petty nature split on rock

Of vulgar wants predestinate for such —

One dish at supper and weak wine to boot !

The prince had grinned and borne : the citizen shrieked,

Summoned the neighborhood to attest the wrong, 550

Made noisy protest he was murdered, — stoned

And burned and drowned and hanged, — then broke away,

He and his wife, to tell their Rome the rest.

And this you admire, you men o' the world, my lords ?

This moves compassion, makes you doubt my faith? 555

Why, I appeal to . . . sun and moon? Not I!

Rather to Plautus,* Terence,* Boccaccio^s Book,*

My townsman, frank Ser Franco's merry Tales, — *

* Baioc : about a halfpenny. * Boccaccio* s Book : " Decameron " (1313-

* Plautus : a famous comic poet of Rome, 1375).

died 184 B.C. » Ser Franco : apparently Franco Sac-

> Terenct : celebrated dramatist, writer of chetti, who lived about Z335-Z410, author of

comedies, died 159 B.C. stories in the manner of Boccaccio. Petrarch^

THE RING AND THE BOOK,

To all who strip a vizard from a face,

A body from its padding, and a soul 560

From froth and ignorance it stvles itself —

If this be other than the dail^ nap

Of purblind greed that dog-like still drops boncy

Grasps shadow, and then howls the case is hard!

So much for them so far : now for m^lf, 565

My profit or loss i^ the matter : mamed am I :

Text whereon friendly censors burst to preach.

Ay, at Rome even, long ere I was left

To regulate her life for my young bride

Alone at Arezzo, friendliness outbroke 570

(Sifting my future to predict its fault)

*< Purchase and sale being thus so plain a point.

How of a certain soul bound up, may-be,

r the barter with the body and money-bags?

From the bride's soul what is it you expect?" 575

Why, loyalty and obedience, — wish and will

To settle and suit her fresh and plastic mind

To the novel, not disadvantageous mould!

Father and mother shall the woman leave,

Cleave to the husband, be it for weal or woe : 580

There is the law : what sets this law aside

In my particular case? My friends submit

"Guide, guardian, benefactor, — fee, few, fiim,

The fact is you are forty-five years old,

Nor very comely even for that age : 585

Girls must have boys." Why, let girls say so then,

Nor call the boys and men, who say the same.

Brute this and beast the other as they do!

Come, cards on table ! When you chaunt us next

Epithalamium full to overflow 590

With praise and glory of white womanhood,

The chaste and pure — troll no such lies o'er lip!

Put in their stead a crudity or two.

Such short and simple statement of the case

As youth chalks on our walls at spring of year! 595

No! I shall still think nobler of the sex.

Believe a woman still may take a man

For the short period that his soul wears flesh.

And, for the soul's sake, understand the fault

Of armor frayed by fighting. Tush, it tempts 600

One's tongue too much ! 1 '11 say — the law 's the law :

With a wife I look to find all wifeliness,

a the term " townsman " better applies Florentine), wrote nothing that can be de*
Sacchetti, though a Tuscan, was a scribed as " merry tales."

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHTNI. 159

*
As when I buy, timber and twig, a tree —

I buy the song o^ the nightingsue inside.

Such was the pact : Pompilia from the first 605

Broke it, refused from Ae beginning day

Either in body or soul to cleave to mine,

And published it forthwith to all the world.

No rupture, — you must join ere you can break, —

Before we had cohabited a month 610

She found I was a devil and no man, —

Made common cause with those who found as much,

Her parents, Pietro and Violante, — moved

Heaven and earth to the rescue of all three.

In four months' time, the time o' the parents' stay, 615

Arezzo was a-rin^ne, bells in a blaze.

With the unimaginable story rife

r the mouth of man, woman and child — to-wit

My misdemeanor. First the lighter side.

Ludicrous face of things, — how very poor 620

The Franceschini had become at last.

The meanness and the misery of each shift

To save a soldo,^ stretch and make ends meet.

Next, the more hateful aspect, — how myself

With cruelty beyond Caligula's ^ 625

Had stripped and beaten, robbed and murdered them,

The good old couple, I decoyed, abused.

Plundered and then cast out, and happily so.

Since, — in due course the abominable comes, —

Woe worth the poor young wife left lonely here! 630

Repugnant in my person as my mind,

I sought, — was ever heard of such revenge?

— To lure and bind her to so cursed a couch.

Such co-embrace with sulphur, snake and toad.

That she was fain to rush forth, call the stones 635

O' the common street to save her, not from hate

Of mine merely, but . . . must I burn my lips

With the blister of the lie? . . . the satyr-love

Of whom but my own brother, the young priest.

Too long enforced to lenten fare belike, 640

Now tempted by the morsel tossed him full

r the trencher where lay bread and herbs at best.

Mark, this yourselves say! — this, none disallows.

Was charged to me by the universal voice

At the instigation of my four-months' wife ! — 645

And then you ask " Such charges so preferred,

^ Soldo : about a penny. * Caligula : a Roman emperor, celebrated

for his cruelties, murdered a.d. 41.

i6o THE RING AND THE BOOK.

(Truly or fialsely, here concerns us not)

Pricked you to punish now if not before? —

Did not the harshness double itself, the hate

Harden ? " I answer " Have it your way and will ! " 650

Say my resentment grew apac« : what tnen ?

Do you cry out on the marvel? When I find

That pure smooth egg which, laid within my nest,

Could not but hatch a comfort to us all,

Issues a cockatrice for me and mine, 655

Do you stare to see me stamp on it ? Swans are soft :

Is it not clear that she you call my wife,

That any wife of any husband, caught

Whettine a sting like this against his breast, —

Speckled with fragments of the fresh-broke shell, 660

Married a month and making outcry thus, —

Proves a plague-prodigy to God and man?

She married : what was it she married for.

Counted upon and meant to meet thereby?

" Love " suggests some one, " love, a little word 665

Whereof wehave not heard one syllable."

So, the Pompilia, child, girl, wife, in one.

Wanted the beating pulse, the rolling eye,

The frantic |;esture, the devotion due

From Thyrsis ^ to Neaera! ^ Guido's love — 670

Why not Proven9al roses in his shoe.

Plume to his cap, and trio of guitars

At casement, with a bravo close beside?

Good things all these are, clearly claimable

When the fit price is paid the proper way. 675

Had it been some friend's wife, now, threw her fan

At my foot, with just this pretty scrap attached,

"Shame, death, damnation — fall these as they may.

So I find you, for a minute! Come this eve! "

— Why, at such sweet self-sacrifice, — who knows? 680

I might have fired up, found me at my post.

Ardent from head to heel, nor feared catch cough.

Nay, had some other friend's . . . say, daughter, tripped

Upstairs and tumbled fiat and frank on me.

Bareheaded and barefooted, with loose hair 685

And garments all at large, — cried " Take me thus !

Duke So-and-So, the greatest man in Rome —

To escape his hand and heart have I broke bounds.

Traversed the town and reached you! " — then, indeed.

The lady had not reached a man of ice ! 690

I would have rummaged, ransacked at the word

1 Thyrsis : a young Arcadian shepherd in ^ Neara : a country maid mentioned in
Virgil's Seventh Eclogue. Virgil's Eclogues III. and V.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. i6i

Those old odd corners of an empty heart

For remnants of dim love the long disused,

And dusty crumblings of romance! But here,

We talk of just a marriage, if you please — 695

The every-day conditions and no more ;

Where do these bind me to bestow one drop

Of blood shall dye my wife's true-love-knot pink?

Pompilia was no pigeon, Venus' pet.

That shuffled from between her pressing paps 700

To sit on my rough shoulder, — but a hawk,

I bought at a hawk's price and carried home

To do hawk's service — at the Rotunda, say,

Where, six o' the callow nestlings in a row.

You pick and choose and pay the price for such. 705

I have paid my pound, await my penny's worth.

So, hoodwink, starve and properly train my bird.

And, should she prove a haggard, — twist ner neck!

Did I not pay my name and style, my hope

And trust, my all? Through spending these amiss 710

I am here! 'T is scarce the gravity or the Court

Will blame me that I never piped a tune,

Treated my falcon-gentle like my finch.

The obligation I incurred was just

To practise mastery, prove my mastership : — 715

Pompilia's duty was — submit herself.

Afford me pleasure, perhaps cure my bile.

Am I to teach my lords what marriage means.

What God ordains thereby and man fulfils

Who, docile to the dictate, treads the house? 720

My lords have chosen the happier part with Paul

And neither marry nor burn, — yet priestliness

Can find a parallel to the marriage-bond

In its own blessed special ordinance

Whereof indeed was marriage made the type : 725

The Church may show her insubordinate,

As marriage her refractory. How of the Monk

Who finds the claustral regimen too sharp

After the first month's essay? What 's the mode

With the Deacon who supports indifferently 730

The rod o' the Bishop when he tastes its smart

Full four weeks ? Do you straightway slacken hold

Of the innocents, the all-unwary ones

Who, eager to profess, mistook their mind ? —

Remit a fast-day's rigor to the Monk 735

Who fancied Francis' manna ^ meant roast quails, —

Concede the Deacon sweet society,

i Francis* manna : the Franciscans depended upon alms for their food and llxVck^.
M

52 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

He never thought the Levite-rule^ renounced, —

Or rather prescribe short chain and sharp scourge

Corrective of such peccant humors ? This — 740

I take to be the Churches mode, and mine.

If I was over-harsh, — the worse i' the wife

Who did not win from harshness as she ought^

Wanted the patience and persuasion, lore

Of love, should cure me and console herself. 745

Put case that I mishandle, flurry and fright

My hawk through clumsiness in sportsmanship,

Twitch out five pens where plucking one would serve —

What, shall she bite and claw to mend the case?

And, if you find I pluck five more for that, 750

Shall you weep " How he roughs the turtle there?"

Such was the starting ; now of the further step. ; i

In lieu of taking penance in good part,

The Monk, with hue and cry, summons a mob

To make a bonfire of the convent, say, — 755

And the Deacon's pretty piece of virtue Tsave

The ears o' the Court ! I try to save my nead)

Instructed by the ingenuous postulant.

Taxes the Bishop with adultery, (mud

Needs must pair off with mud, and filth with filth) — 760

Such being my next experience. Who knows not —

The couple, father and mother of my wife.

Returned to Rome, published before my lords,

Put into print, made circulate far and wide

That they had cheated me who cheated them ? 765

Pompilia, I supposed their daughter, drew

Breath first 'mid Rome's worst rankness, through the deed

Of a drab and a rogue, was by-blow bastard-babe

Of a nameless strumpet, passed off, palmed on me

As the daughter with the dowry. Daughter? Dirt 770

O' the kennel! Dowry? Dust o' the street! Nought more,

Nought less, nought else but — oh — ah — assuredly

A Franceschini and my very wife!

Now take this charge as you will, for false or true, —

This charge, preferred before your very selves 775

Who judge me now, — I pray you, adjudge again.

Classing it with the cheats or with the lies.

By which category I suffer most !

But of their reckoning, theirs who dealt with me

In either fashion, — I reserve my word, 780

Justify that in its place ; I am now to say,

Whichever point o' the charge might poison most,

* Levite-rule = priest-rule.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. 163

Pompilia^s duty was no doubtful one.

You put the protestation in her mouth

" Henceforward and forevermore, avaunt 785

Ye fiends, who drop disguise and glare revealed

In your own shape, no longer father mine

Nor mother mine! Too nakedly you hate

Me whom you looked as if you loved once, — me

Whom, whether true or false, your tale now damns, 790

Divulged thus to my public infamy,

Private perdition, absolute overthrow.

For, hate my husband to your hearts' content,

I, spoil and prey of you from first to last,

I who have done you the blind service, lured 795

The lion to your pitfall, — I, thus left

To answer for my ignorant bleating there,

I should have been remembered and withdrawn

From the first o' the natural fury, not flung loose

A proverb and a by- word men will mouth. 800

At the cross-way, in the corner, up and down

Rome and Arezzo, : — there, full in my face.

If my lord, missing them and finding me.

Content himself with casting his reproach

To drop i' the street where such impostors die. 805

Ah, but — that husband, what the wonder were! —

If, far from casting thus away the rag

Smeared with the plague his hand had chanced upon,

Sewn to his pillow by Locusta's wile,^ —

Far from abolishing, root, stem and branch, 810

The misgrowth of infectious mistletoe

Foisted mto his stock for honest graft, —

If he repudiate not, renounce nowise.

But, guarding, guiding me, maintain my cause

By making it his own, (what other way?) 815

— To keep my name for me, he call it his,

Claim it of who would take it by their lie, —

To save my wealth for me — or babe of mine

Their lie was framed to beggar at the birth —

He bid them loose grasp, give our gold again : 820

If he become no partner with the pair

Even in a game which, played adroitly, gives

Its winner life's great wonderful new chance, —

Of marrying, to-wit, a second time, —

Ah, if he did thus, what a friend were he ! 825

Anger he might show, — who can stamp out flame

Yet spread no black o' the brand ? — yet, rough albeit

^ Locusta : the name of a notorious female typical of any poisoner. She helped Nero to
poisoner at Rome in the first century; hence poison Britannicus.

i64 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

In the act, as whose bare feet feel embers scorch,

What grace were his, what gratitude were mine! "

Such protestation should have been my wife^s. 830

Looking for this, do I exact too much ?

Why, here 's the, — word for word, so much, no more, —

Avowal she made, her pure spontaneous speech

To my brother the Abate at first blush,

Ere the Eood impulse had beeun to fade : 835

So did she make confession & the pair.

So pour forth praises in her own behalf.

"Ay, the false letter," interpose my lords —

" The simulated writing, — 't was a trick :

You traced the signs, she merely marked the same, 840

The product was not hers but yours." Alack,

1 want no more impulsion to tell truth

From the other trick, the torture inside there!

I confess all — let it be understood —

And deny nothing! If I baffle you so, 845

Can so fence, in the plenitude of right.

That my poor lathen ^ dagger puts aside

Each pass o' the Bilboa,*-* beats you all the same,—

What matters inefficiency of blade?

Mine and not hers the letter, — conceded, lords! 850

Impute to me that practice! — take as proved

I taught my wife her duty, made her see

What it behoved her see and say and do.

Feel in her heart and with her tongue declare.

And, whether sluggish or recalcitrant, 855

Forced her to take the right step, I myself

Was marching in marital rectitude!

Why who finds fault here, say the tale be true?

Would not my lords commend the priest whose zeal

Seized on the sick, morose or moribund, 860

By the palsy-smitten finger, made it cross

His brow correctly at the critical time?

— Or answered for the inarticulate babe

At baptism, in its stead declared the faith.

And saved what else would perish unprofessed? 865

True, the incapable hand may rally yet,

Renounce the sign with renovated strength, —

The babe may grow up man and Molinist, —

And so Pompilia, set in the good path

And left to go alone there, soon might see 870

That too frank-forward, all too simple-straight

* Ltttken -- Utteti, a kind of brass or ' Bilhoa : a flexible-bladed cutlass named
bronxe. See note, 1. xa^z. from Bilboa, the Spanish adventurer and

American discoverer.

COUNT GtriDO fkANCJESCHlNt.

165

Her step was, and decline to tread the rough,

When here lay, tempting foot, the meadow-side,

And there the coppice rang with singins-birds !

Soon she discovered she was young and fair, 875

That many in Arezzo knew as much.

Yes, this next cup of bitterness, my lords.

Had to begin go filling, drop by drop,

Its measure up of full disgust for me,

Filtered into by every noisome drain — 880

Society^s sink toward which all moisture runs.

Would not you prophesy — " She on whose brow is stamped

The note 01 the imputation that we know, —

Rightly or wrongly mothered with a whore, —

Such an one, to disprove the frightful charge, 885

What will she but exaggerate chastity.

Err in excess of wifehood, as it were.

Renounce even levities permitted youth.

Though not youth struck to age by a thunderbolt?

Cry *wolf' i' the sheepfold, where 's the sheep dares bleat, 890

Knowing the shepherd listens for a growl ? "

So you expect. How did the devil decree?

Why, my lords, just the contrary of course!

It was in the house from the window, at the church

From the hassock, — where the theatre lent its lodge, 895

Or staging for the public show left space, —

That still Pompilia needs must find herself

Launching her looks forth, letting looks reply

As arrows to a challenge ; on all sides

Ever new contribution to her lap, 900

Till one day, what is it knocks at my clenched teeth

But the cup full, curse-collected all for me ?

And I must needs drink, drink this gallant^s praise,

That minion's prayer, the other fop's reproach.

And come at the dregs to — Caponsacchi ! Sirs, 905

I, — chin-deep in a marsh of misery.

Struggling to extricate my name and fame

And fortune from the marsh would drown them all,

My face the sole unstrangled part of me, —

I must have this new gad-fly in that face, 910

Must free me from the attacking lover too!

Men say I battled ungracefully enough —

Was harsh, uncouth and ludicrous beyond

The proper part o' the husband : have it so!

Your lordships are considerate at least — 915

You order me to speak in my defence

Plainly, expect no quavering tuneful trills

As when you bid a singer solace you, —

Nor look that I shall give it, for a grace.

i66 THE klPfG APfD THE BOOK.

Starts pede in uno : ^ — you remember well 920

In the one case, 't is a plainsong^ too severe,

This story of my wrongs, — and that I ache

And need a chair, in the other. Ask you me

Why, when I felt this trouble flap my face,

Already pricked with every shame could perch, — 925

When, with her parents, my wife plagued me too, —

Why I enforced not exhortation mild

To leave whore's-tricks and let my brows alone.

With mulct of comfits, promise of perfume ?

"Far from that! No, you took the opposite course, 930

Breathed threatenings, rage and slaughter!" What you will!

And the end has come, the doom is verily here,

Unhindered by the threatening. See fate's flare

Full on each face of the dead guilty three !

Look at them well, and now, lords, look at this! 935

Tell me : if on that day when I found first

That Capsonsacchi thought the nearest way

To his church was some half-mile round by my door,

And that he so admired, shall I suppose.

The manner of the swallows' come-and-go 940

Between the props o' the window over-head, —

That window happening to be my wife's, —

As to stand gazing by the hour on high,

Of May-eves, while she sat and let him smile, —

If I, — instead of threatening, talking big, 945

Showing hair-powder, a prodigious pinch.

For poison in a bottle, — making believe

At desperate doings with a bauble-sword.

And other bugaboo-and-baby-work, —

Had, with the vulgarest household implement, 950

Calmly and quietly cut off, clean thro' bone

But one joint of one finger of my wife.

Saying " For listening to the serenade.

Here's your ring-finger shorter a full third :

Be certain I will slice away next joint, 955

Next time that anybody underneath

Seems somehow to be sauntering as he hoped

A flower would eddy out of your hand to his

While you please fidget with the branch above

O' the rose-tree in the terrace!" — had I done so, 960

Why, there had followed a quick sharp scream, some pain,

1 Sians Pede in uno: "standing on one * Platnsong: simple early chants of the
foot," a metaphor descriptive of anything done church,
easily or off-hand; from Horace, " Satires," i.
4» 10^

COUI^ GOIDO FRANCESCHII^I. i^

Much calling for plaister, damage to the dress,

A somewhat sulky countenance next day.

Perhaps reproaches, — but reflections too!

I donH hear much of harm that Malchus did 965

After the incident of the ear, my lords !

Saint Peter took the efficacious way ;

Malchus was sore but silenced for his life :

He did not hang himself i' the Potter's Field

Like Judas, who was trusted with the bag 970

And treated to sops after he proved a thief.

So, by this time, my true and obedient wife

Might have been telling beads with a gloved hand ;

Awkward a little at pricking hearts and darts

On sampler possibly, but well otherwise : 975

Not where Rome shudders now to see her lie.

I give that for the course a wise man takes ;

I took the other however, tried the fool's.

The lighter remedy, brandished rapier dread

With cork-ball at the tip, boxed Malchus' ear 980

Instead of severing the cartilage.

Called her a terrible nickname, and the like,

And there an end : and what was the end of that?

What was the good effect o' the gentle course?

Why, one night I went drowsily to bed, 985

Dropped asleep suddenly, not suddenly woke.

But did wake with rough rousing and loud cry,

To find noon in my face, a crowd in my room.

Fumes in my brain, fire in my throat, my wife

Gone God knows whither, — rifled vesture-chest, 990

And ransacked money-coffer. " What does it mean? "

The servants had been drugged too, stared and yawned

" It must be that our lady has eloped! "

— " Whither and with whom ? " — " With whom but the Canon^s

self?
One recognizes Caponsacchi there ! " — 995

(By this time the admirine neighborhood
Joined chorus round me while I rubbed my eyes)
** 'T is months since their intelligence began, —
A comedy the town was privy to, —

He wrote and she wrote, she spoke, he replied, 1000

And going in and out your house last night
Was easy work for one ... to be plain with you ...
Accustomed to do both, at dusk and dawn
When you were absent, — at the villa, you know,
Where husbandry required the master-mind. I005

Did not you know? Why, we all knew, you see! "
And presently, bit by bit, the full and true
Particulars of the tale were volunteered

i68 THE RMG AND THE BOOK.

•

With all the breathless zeal of friendship — ''Thus

Matters were managed : at the seventh hour of night ^ . . . loio

— " Later, at daybreak " . . . " Caponsacchi came " . . •

— << While you and all your household slept like death^

Drugged as your supper was with drowsy stuff" . . •

— " And your own cousin Guillichini too —

Either or both entered your dwelling-place, 1015

Plundered it at their pleasure, made prize of all.

Including your wife . . ." — " Oh, your wife led the way,

Out of doors, on to the gate . . . ^^ — '' But eates are shut.

In a decent town, to darkness and such dee& :

Thev climbed the wall — your lady must be lithe — 1020

At the gap, the broken bit . . . " — " Torrione, true I

To escape the questioning guard at the proper gate,

Clemente, where at the inn, hard by, ' the Horse,*

Just outside, a calash in readiness

Took the two principals, all alone at last, 1025

To gate San Spirito, which overlooks the road,

Leads to Perugia, Rome and liberty."

Bit by bit thus made-up mosaic-wise,

Flat lay my fortune, — tessellated floor,

Imperishable tracery devils should foot lojo

And frolic it on, around my broken gods,

Over my desecrated hearth.

So much
For the terrible effect of threatening, Sirs!
Well, this way I was shaken wide awake.

Doctored and drenched, somewhat unpoisoned so. 1035

Then, set on horseback and bid seek the lost,
I started alone, head of me, heart of me
Fire, and each limb as languid ... ah, sweet lords,
Bethink you ! — poison-torture, try persuade
The next refractory Molinist with that ! . . . 1040

Floundered thro' day and night, another day
And yet another ni^ht, and so at last.
As Lucifer kept falhng to find hell.
Tumbled into the court-yard of an inn

At the end, and fell on whom I thought to find, 1045

Even Caponsacchi, — what part once was priest.
Cast to the winds now with the cassock-rags.
In cape and sword a cavalier confessed.
There stood he chiding dilatory grooms.

Chafing that only horseflesh and no team 1050

Of eagles would supply the last relay,
Whirl him along the league, the one post more
Between the couple and Rome and liberty.
'T was dawn, the couple were rested in a sort ;
And though the lady, tired, — the tenderer sex, — 105 5

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINL 169

Still lingered in her chamber, —to adjust

The limp hair, look for any blush astray, —

She would descend in a twinkling, — *< Have you out

The horses therefore I"

So did I find my wife.
Is the case complete? Do your eyes here see with mine?
Even the parties dared deny no one 1061

Point out of all these points*

What follows next?
" Why, that then was the time," you interpose,
" Or then or never, while the fact was fresh.
To take the natural vengeance ; there and thus 1065

They and you, — sombody had stuck a sword
Beside you while he pushed you on your horse, —
'T was requisite to slay the couple. Count!"
Just so my friends say. " Kill! " they cry in a breath.
Who presently, when matters grow to a head 1070

And I do kill the offending ones indeed, —
When crime of theirs, only surmised before.
Is patent, proved indisputably now, —
When remedy for wrong, untried at the time.
Which law professes shall not fail a friend, 1075

Is thrice tried now, found threefold worse than null, —
When what might turn to transient shade, who knows?
Solidifies into a blot which breaks
Hell's black off in pale flakes for fear of mine, —
Then, when I claim and take revenge — " So rash?" 1080
They cry — "so little reverence for the law?"

Listen, my masters, and distinguish here!

At first, I called in law to act and help :

Seeing I did so, " Why, \ is clear," they cry,

" You shrank from gallant readiness and risk, 1085

Were coward : the thing 's inexplicable else."

Sweet my lords, let the thing be! I fall flat,

Play the reed, not the oak, to breath of man.

Only inform my ignorance! Say I stand

Convicted of the having been afraid, 1090

Proved a poltroon, no lion but a lamb, —

Does that deprive me of my right of lamb

And give my fleece and flesh to the first wolf?

Are eunuchs, women, children, shieldless quite

Against attack their own timidity tempts? 1095

Cowardice were misfortune and no crime !

— Take* it that way, since I am fallen so low

1 scarce dare brush the fly that blows my face.

And thank the man who simply spits not there, —

Unless the Court be generous, comprehend *ioo

170 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

How one brought up at the very feet of law

As ly awaits the grave GamaliePs nod

Ere he clench fist at outrage, — much less, stab!

— How, ready enough to nse at the right time,

I still could recognize no time mature iioj

Unsanctioned by a move o^ the judgment-seat,

So, mute in misery, eyed my masters here

Motionless till the authoritative word

Pronounced amercement. There 's the riddle solved :

This is just why I slew nor her nor him, iiio

But called in law, law^s delegate in the place.

And bade arrest the guilty couple, Sirs!

We had some trouble to do so — you have heard

They braved me, — he with arrogance and scorn.

She, with a volubility of curse, 1115

A conversancy in the skill of tooth

And claw to make suspicion seem absurd.

Nay, an alacrity to put to proof

At my own throat my own sword, teach me so

To try conclusions better the next time, — 11 20

Which did the proper service with the mob.

They never tried to put on mask at all :

Two avowed lovers forcibly torn apart.

Upbraid the tyrant as in a playhouse scene.

Ay, and with proper clapping and applause 112s

From the audience that enjoys the bold and free.

I kept still, said to myself, " There 's law! " Anon

We searched the chamber where they passed the night,

Found what confirmed the worst was feared before.

However needless confirmation now — 1 130

The witches' circle intact, charms undisturbed

That raised the spirit and succubus,^ — letters, to-wit,

Love-laden, each the bag o' the bee that bore

Honey from lily and rose to Cupid's hive, —

Now, poetry in some rank blossom-burst, 1 135

Now, prose, — " Come here, go there, wait such a while,

He 's at the villa, now he 's back again :

We are saved, we are lost, we are lovers all the same!"

All in order, all complete, — even to a clue

To the drowsiness that happed so opportune — 1 149

No mystery, when I read " Of all things, find

What wine Sir Jealousy decides to drink —

Red wine? Because a sleeping-potion, dust

Dropped into white, discolors wine and shows."

— " Oh, but we did not write a single word! 1 145

^ Succubus : a demon that has been conjured up.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. 171

Somebody forged the letters in our name! — ^

Both in a breath protested presently.

Aha, Sacchetti again! — " Dame," — quoth the Duke,

*^ What meaneth this epistle, counsel me,

I pick from out thy placket and peruse, 11 50

Wherein my page averreth thou art white

And warm and wonderful 'twixt pap and pap?"

" Sir," laughed the Lady, <*'t is a counterfeit!

Thy page did never stroke but Dianas breast^

The pretty hound I nurture for thy sake : 11 55

To lie were losel, — by my fay, no more ! "

And no more say I too, and spare the Court.

Ah, the Court! yes, I come to the Court's self;

Such the case, so complete in fact and proof,

I laid at the feet of law, — there sat m^ lords, 1 160

Here sit they now, so may they ever sit

In easier attitude than suits my haunch!

In this same chamber did I bare my sores

O' the soul and not the body, — shun no shame,

Shrink from no probing of the ulcerous part, 11 65

Since confident m Nature, — which is God, —

That she who, for wise ends, concocts a plague.

Curbs, at the right time, the plague's virulence too :

Law renovates even Lazarus, — cures me!

Caesar thou seekest? To Caesar thou shalt go! 11 70

Caesar's at Rome: to Rome accordingly!

The case was soon decided : both weifi;hts, cast

r the balance, vibrate, neither kicks the beam.

Here away, there away, this now and now that.

To every one o' my grievances law gave 1175

Redress, could purblind eye but see the point.

The wife stood a convicted runagate

From house and husband, — driven to such a course

By what she somehow took for cruelty.

Oppression and imperilment of life — 1 180

Not that such things were, but that so they seemed :

Therefore, the end conceded lawful, (since

To save life there 's no risk should stay our leap)

It follows that all means to the lawful end

Are lawful likewise, — poison, theft and flight. 11 85

As for the priest's part, did he meddle or make,

Enough that he too thought life jeopardized ;

Concede him then the color charity

Casts on a doubtful course, — if blackish white

Or whitish black, will charity hesitate ? 1 190

What did he else but act the precept out,

172 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Leave, like a provident shepherd, his safe flock

To follow the single lamb and strayawav?

Best hope so and think so, — that the tiddiih tiuM

r the carriage, the tempting privacy, the last 1195

Somewhat ambiguous accident at the inn,

— All may bear explanation: may? then, must I
The letters, — do they so incriminate?

But what if the whole prove a prank o^ the pen,

Flight of the fancy, none of theirs at all, 1200

Bred of the vapors of my brain belike,

Or at worst mere exercise of scholar^s-wit

In the courtly Caponsacchi: verse, convict?

Did not Catullus ^ write less seemly once?

Yet doctus and unblemished he abides. 1205

Wherefore so ready to infer the worst?

Still, I did righteously in bringing doubts

For the law to solve, — take the solution now!

^' Seeing that the said associates, wife and priest,

Bear themselves not without some touch of blame 12 10

— Else why the pother, scandal and outcry

Which trouble our peace and require chastisement?

We, for complicity in Pompilia^s flight

And deviation, and carnal mtercourse

With the same, do set aside and relegate 12 15

The Canon Caponsacchi for three years

At Civita in the neighborhood of Rome :

And we consign Pompilia to the care

Of a certain Sisterhood of penitents

r the city's self, expert to deal with such." 1220

Word for word, there 's your judgment I Read it, lords.

Re-utter your deliberate penaJtv

For the crime yourselves establish I Your award -^

Who chop a man's right-hand ofl* at the wrist

For tracing with forefinger words in wine 1225

O^ the table of a drinking-booth that bear

Interpretation as they mocked the Church I

— Who brand a woman black between the breasts
For sinning by connection with a Jew :

While for the Jew's self — pudency be dumb! 1230

You mete out punishment such and such, yet so

Punish the adultery of wife and priest!

Take note of that, before the Molinists do,

And read me right the riddle, since right must be I

While I stood rapt away with wonderment, 1235

Voices broke in upon my mood and muse.

*Do you sleep?" began the friends at either ear,

1 Catullus : a learned but wanton poet, 87-47 B.C.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINI. 173

^The case is settled, — you willed it should be so *-«

None of our counsel, always recollect!

With law^s award, budge! Bade into your place! 1240

Your betters shall arrange the rest for you.

We ^ enter a new action, claim divorce :

Your marriage was a cheat themselves allow :

You erred i^ the person, — might have married thus

Your sister or your daughter unaware. 1245

We ^11 gain you, that way, libertv at least,

Sure of so much by law^s own showing. Up

And off with you and your unluckiness —

Leave us to bury the blunder, sweep things smooth! ^

I was in humble frame of mind, be sure! 1250

I bowed, betook me to my place again.

Station by station I retraced the road.

Touched at this hostel, passed this post-house by.

Where, fresh-remembered yet, the nigitives

Had risen to the heroic stature : still — 1255

"That was the bench they sat on, — there 's the board

They took the meal at, — yonder garden-ground

They leaned across the gate of," — ever a word

O' the Helen and the Paris, with " Ha! you 're he,

The . . . much-commiserated husband?" step 1260

By step, across the pelting, did I reach

Arezzo, underwent the archway's grin.

Traversed the length of sarcasm in the street,

Found myself in my horrible house once more,

And after a colloquy ... no word assists! 1265

With the mother and the brothers, stiffened me

Straight out from head to foot as dead man does,

And, thus prepared for life as he for hell,

Marched to the public Square and met the world.

Apologize for the pincers, palliate screws? 1270

Ply me with such toy-trifles, I entreat!

Trust who has tried both sulphur and sops-in-wine!

I played the man as I best might, bade friends ^ '^ .,

Put non-essentials by and foce the fact.

" What need to hang myself as you advise? 1275

The paramour is banished, — the ocean's width,

Or the suburb's length, — to Ultima Thule,^ say,

Or Proxima Civitas,* what 's the odds of name

And place? He 's banished, and the fact 's the thing.

Why should law banish innocence an inch? 1280

^ Ultima ThuU : the liame given by the an- * Proxima Civitas : the nearest city,
cients to the farthest land known to the north,
supposed to be either Iceland or the Orkneys^

174 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Here 's guilt then, what else do I care to know ?

The adulteress lies imprisoned, — whether in a well

With bricks above and a snake for company,

Or tied by a garter to a bed-post, — much

I mind what ^s little, — least ^s enough and to spare ! 1285

The little fillip on the coward's cheek

Serves as though crab-tree cudgel broke his pate.

Law has pronounced there ^s punishment, less or more :

And I take note o^ the fact and use it thus —

For the first flaw in the original bond, 1290

I claim release. My contract was to wed

The daughter of Pietro and Violante. Both

Protest they never had a child at all.

Then I have never made a contract : good!

Cancel me quick the thing pretended one. 1295

I shall be free. What matter if hurried over

The harbor-boom by a great favoring tide.

Or the last of a spent ripple that lifts and leaves ?

The Abate is about it. Laugh who wins! , . <''

You shall not laugh me out of faith in law! \ -. -> ^ 1300

I listen, through ^ your noise, to Rome! ^'

Rome spoke. .
In three months letters thence admonished me,
" Your plan for the divorce is all a mistake.
It would hold, now, had you, taking thought to wed
Rachel of the blue eye and golden hair, 1305

Found swarth-skinned Leah cumber couch next day :
But Rachel, blue-eyed golden-haired aright.
Proving to be only Laban^s child, not Lot's,
Remains yours all the same for ever more.
No whit to the purpose is your plea: you err 1310

r the person and the quality — nowise
In the individual, — that's the case in point!
You go to the ground, — are met by a cross-suit
For separation, of the Rachel here.

From bed and board, — she is the injured one, 13 15

You did the wrong and have to answer it.
As for the circumstance of imprisonment
And color it lends to this your new attack.
Never fear, that point is considered too!
The durance is already at an end ; 1320

The convent-quiet preyed upon her health.
She is transferred now to her parents' house
— No-parents, when that cheats and plunders you.
But parentage again confessed in full,

When such confession pricks and plagues you more — 1325
As now — for, this their house is not the house
In Via Vittoria wherein neighbors' watch

COUNT GUI DO FRANCESCHINL 175

Might incommode the freedom of your wife,

But a certain villa smothered up in vines

At the town's edge by the gate i' the Pauline Way, 1330

Out of eye-reach, out of ear-shot, little and lone.

Whither a friend, — at Civita, we hope,

A good half-dozen-hours' ride off, — might, some eve,

Betake himself, and whence ride back, some mom,

Nobody the wiser : but be that as it may, 1335

Do not afflict your brains with trifles now.

You have still three suits to manage, all and each

Ruinous truly should the event play false.

It is indeed the likelier so to do.

That brother Paul, your single prop and stay, 1340

After a vain attempt to bring the Pope

To set aside procedures, sit himself

And summarily use prerogative, .

Afford us the infallible finger's tact

To disentwine your tangle of affairs, 1345

Paul, — finding it moreover past his strength

To stem the irruption, bear Rome's ridicme

Of . . . since friends must speak ... to be round with you . . .

Of the old outwitted husband, wronged and wroth,

Pitted against a brace of juveniles — 1350

A brisk priest who is versed in Ovid's art ^

More than his Summa,^ and a gamesome wife

Able to act Corinna ' without book.

Beside the waggish parents who played dupes

To dupe the duper — (and truly divers scenes 1355

Of the Arezzo palace, tickle rib

And tease eye till the tears come, so we laugh ;

Nor wants the shock at the inn its comic force.

And then the letters and poetry — merum sall^)

— Paul, finally, in such a state of things, I360

After a brief temptation to go jump

And join the fishes in the Tiber, drowns

Sorrow another and a wiser way :

House and goods, he has sold all off, is gone,

Leaves Rome, — whether for France or Spain, who knows? 1365

Or Britain almost divided from our orb.

You have lost him anyhow."

Now, — I see my lords
Shift in their seat, — would I could do the same!
They probably please expect my bile was moved

> OvteTsart : Ovid wrote a book on " The » Corinna : Ovid's mistress Julia
Art of Love." celebrated by him under the name of Corinna,

* Summa : the " Summa Theologiae," by * Merum sal : pure salt.
St. Thomas Aquinas, from which the priests
of the Roman Church study their theology.

176 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

To purpose, nor much blame me : now, they judge, 1370

The fiery titillation urged my flesh

Break through the bonds. By your pardon, no, sweet Sirs!

I got such missives in the public place ;

When I sought home, — with such news, mounted stair

And sat at last in the sombre gallery, 1375

(T was Autumn, the old mother in bed betimes.

Having to bear that cold, the finer frame

Of her daughter-in-law had found intolerable —

The brother, walking misery away

O^ the mountain-side with dog and gun belike) 1380

As I supped, ate the coarse bread, drank the wine

Weak once, now acrid with the toad^s-head-squeeze.

My wife's bestowment, — I broke silence thus :

" Let me, a man, manfully meet the fact,

Confront the worst o' the truth, end, and have peace! 1385

I am irremediably beaten here, —

The gross illiterate vulgar couple, — bah!

Why, they have measured forces, mastered mine.

Made me their spoil and prey from first to last.

They have got my name, — H is nailed now fast to theirs, 1390

The child or changeling is anyway my wife ;

Point by point as they plan they execute.

They gain all, and I lose all — even to the lure

That led to loss, — they have the wealth again

They hazarded awhile to hook me with, 1395

Have caught the fish and find the bait entire :

They even have their child or changeling back

To trade with, turn to account a second time.

The brother presumably might tell a tale

Or rive a warning, — he, too, flies the field, 1400

And with him vanish help and hope of help.

They have caught me in the cavern where I fell,

Covered my loudest cry for human aid

With this enormous paving-stone of shame.

Well, are we demigods or merely clay? 1405

Is success still attendant on desert ?

Is this, we live on, heaven and the final state.

Or earth which means probation to the end ?

Why claim escape from man's predestined lot

Of being beaten and baffled ? — God's decree, 1410

In which I, bowing bruised head, acquiesce.

One of us Franceschini fell long since

r the Holy Land, betrayed, tradition runs,

To Paynims bv the feigning of a girl

He rushed to free from ravisher, and found 1415

Lay safe enough with friends in ambuscade

Who flayed him while she clapped her hands and laughed :

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHTNL 177

Let me end, falling by a like device.
It will not be so hard. I am the last

O^ my line which will not suffer any more. 1420

I have attained to my full fifty years,
(About the average of us all, ^t is said,
Though it seems longer to the unlucky man)
— Lived through my share of life ; let all end here,
Me and the house and grief and shame at once. 1425

Friends my informants, — I can bear your blow! ^'
And I believe \ was in no unmeet match
For the stoic^s mood, with something like a smile,
That, when morose December roused me next,
I took into my hand, broke seal to read 1430

The new epistle from Rome. " All to no use!
Whatever die turn next injury take,'^ smiled I,
^^ Kerens one has chosen his part and knows his cue.
I am done with, dead now ; strike away, good friends!
Are the three suits decided in a trice? 1435

Against me, — there ^s no question! How does it go?
Is the parentage of my wife demonstrated
Infamous to her wbh r Parades she now
Loosed of the cincture that so irked the loin?
Is the last penny extracted from my purse 1440

To mulct me for demanding the first pound
Was promised in return for value paid?
Has the priest, with nobody to court beside.
Courted the Muse in exile, hitched my hap
Into a rattling ballad-rhyme which, bawled 1445

At tavern-doors, wakes rapture everywhere.
And helps cheap wine down throat this Christmas time.
Beating the ba^ipes ? Any or all of these !
As well, sood mends, you cursed my palace here
To its Ola cold stone face, — stuck your cap for crest 1450
Over the shield that 's extant in the Square, —
Or spat on the statue^s cheek, the impatient world
Sees cumber tomb-top in our iBsimily church :
Let him creep under covert as I shall do.
Half below-ground already indeed. Good-bye! 1455

My brothers are priests, and childless so ; that's well —
And, thank God most for this, no child leave I —
None after me to bear till his heart break
The being a Franceschini and my son! "

" Nay," said the letter, " but you have just that! 1460

A babe, your veritable son and heir —

Lawful. — H is only eight months since your wife

Left you, — so, son and heir, your babe was born

Last Wednesday in the villa, — you see the cause

N

178 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

For quitting Convent without beat of drum, 1465

Stealing a hurried march to this retreat

That ^s not so savage as the Sisterhood

To slips and stumbles : Pietro^s heart is soft,

Violante leans to pity's side, — the pair

Ushered you into life a bouncing boy : 1470

And he 's already hidden away and safe

From any claim on him you mean to make —

They need him for themselves, — don't fear, they know

The use o' the bantling, — the nerve thus laid bare

To nip at, new and nice, with finger-nail! ^ 1475

Then I rose up like fire, and fire-like roared.

What, all is only beginnin|; not ending now ?

The worm which wormed its way from skin through flesh

To the bone and there lay biting, did its best, —

What, it ^oes on to scrape at the bone's self, 1480

Will wind to inmost marrow and madden me?

There 's to be yet my representative.

Another of the name shall keep displayed

The flag with the ordure on it, brandish still

The broken sword has served to stir a jakes? 1485

Who will he be, how will you call the man?

A Franceschini, — when who cut my purse.

Filched my name, hemmed me round, hustled me hard

As rogues at a fair some fool they strip i' the midst,

When these count gains, vaunt pillage presently : — 1490

But a Caponsacchi, oh, be very sure!

When what demands its tribute of applause

Is the cunnine and impudence o' the pair of cheats.

The lies and mst o' the mother, and the brave

Bold carriage of the priest, worthily crowned 149S

By a witness to his feat i' the following age, —

And how this three-fold cord could hook and fetch

And land leviathan that king of pride!

Orsay, by some mad miracle of chance.

Is he indeed my flesh and blood, this babe? 1500

Was it because fate forged a link at last

Betwixt my wife and me, and both alike

Found we had henceforth some one thing to love.

Was it when she could damn my soul indeed

She unlatched door, let all the devils o' the dark 1505

Dance in on me to cover her escape ?

Why then, the surplusage of disgrace, the spilth

Over and above the measure of infamy,

Failing to take effect on my coarse fiesh

Seasoned with scorn now, saturate with shame, — 15 10

Is saved to instil on and corrode the brow,

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINL 179

The baby-softness of my first-bom child —

The child I had died to see though in a dream,

The child I was bid strike out for, beat the wave

And baffle the tide of troubles where I swam, 1515

So I mieht touch shore, lay down life at last

At the feet so dim and distant and divine

Of the apparition, as \ were Mary^s Babe

Had held, through night and storm, the torch aloft, —

Bom now in verv de^ to bear this brand 1520

On forehead and curse me who could not save!

Rather be the town talk true, square^s jest, street^s jeer

True, my own inmost heart's confession true.

And he the priest's bastard and none of mine!

Ay, there was cause for flight, swift flight and sure! 1525

The husband gets unruly, breaks all bounds

When he encounters some familiar face,

Fashion of feature, brow and eyes and lips

Where he least looked to find them, — time to fly!

This bastard then, a nest for him is made, 1530

As the manner is of vermin, in my flesh :

Shall I let the filthy pest buzz, flap and sting.

Busy at my vitals and, nor hand nor foot

Lift, but let be, lie still and rot resigned?

No, I appeal to God, — what says Himself, 1535

How lessons Natm^ when I look to learn?

Why, that I am alive, am still a man

With brain and heart and ton&;ue and right-hand too —

Nay, even with Mends, in such a cause as this,

To right me if I fail to take my right. 1540

No more of law ; a voice beyond the law

Enters my heart, Quis est pro Domino f *

Myself, in my own Vittiano, told the tale

To my own serving-people summoned there :

Told the first half of it, scarce heard to end 1545

By judges who got done with judgment quick

And clamored to go execute her 'nest —

Who cried " Not one of us that dig your soil

And dress your vineyard, prune your olive-trees.

But would nave brained the man debauched our wife, 1550

And staked the wife whose lust allured the man.

And paunched the Duke, had it been possible.

Who ruled the land yet barred us such revenge! "

I fixed on the first wnose eyes caught mine, some four

Resolute youngsters with tne heart still fresh, 1555

Filled my purse with the residue o' the coin

^ Quis est pro Domino : who is on the Lord's side }

l8o THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Uncaught-up by my wife whom haste made blind^

Donned the first rough and rural garb I found,

Took whatsoever weapon came to hand.

And out we flung and on we ran or reeled 1560

Romeward. I have no memory of our way,

Only that, when at intervals the cloud

Of horror about me opened to let in life,

I listened to some song in the ear, some snatch

Of a legend, relic of religion, stray 1565

Fragment of record very strong and old

Of the first conscience, the anterior right.

The GodVgift to mankind, impulse to quench

The antagonistic spark of hell and tread

Satan and all his malice into dust, 1570

Declare to the world the one law, right is right.

Then the cloud re-enco'mpassed me, and so

I found myself, as on the wings of winds.

Arrived : I was at Rome on Christmas Eve. , ^

• Festive bells — everywhere the Feast o' the Babe, ' 1575

Joy upon earth, peace and good will to man!
I am baptized. I started and let drop
The dagger. " Where is it. His promised peace ? ''
Nine days o^ the Birth-Feast did I pause and pray
To enter into no temptation more. 1580

I bore the hateful house, my brother's once,
Deserted, — let the ghost of social joy
Mock and make mouths at me from empty room
And idle door that missed the master's step, —
Bore the ifrank wonder of incredulous eyes, 1585

As my own people watched without a word,
Waited, from where they huddled round the hearth
Black like all else, that nod so slow to come.
I stopped my ears even to the inner call
Of the dread duty, only heard the song 1590

" Peace upon earth," saw nothing but the face
O' the Holy Infant and the halo there
Able to cover yet another face
Behind it, Satan's which I else should see.
But, day by day, joy waned and withered off: 1595

The Babels face, premature with peak and pine,
Sank into wrinkled ruinous old age,
Suffering and death, then mist-like disappeared.
And showed only the Cross at end of all,
Left nothing more to interpose 'twixt me 1600

And the dread duty : for the angels' song,
" Peace upon earth," louder and louder pealed
'* O Lord, how long, how long be unavenged ? "

covirr GuiDO FRAprcEscHim. iSi

On the ninth day, this grew too much for man.

I started up — " Some end must be! " At once, 1605

Silence : then, scratching like a death-watch-tick.

Slowly within my brain was syllabled,

" One more concession, one decisive way

And but one, to determine thee the truth, —

This way, in fine, I whisper in thy ear : 1610

Now doubt, anon decide, thereupon act! ^'

<< That is a way, thou whisperest in my earl

I doubt, I will decide, then act," said I —

Then beckoned my companions : ^' Time is come! ^

And so, all yet uncertain save the will 161 5

To do right, and the daring au£;ht save leave

Right undone, I did find myseU* at last

r the dark before the villa with my friends,

And made the experiment, the final test.

Ultimate chance that ever was to be 1620

For the wretchedness inside. I knocked, pronounced

The name, the predetermined touch for truth,

" What welcome for the wanderer? Open straight — "

To the friend, physician, friar upon his rounds,

Traveller belated, beggar lame and blind? 1625

No, but — " to Caponsacchi! " And the door

Opened.

And then, — why, even then, I think,
r the minute that confirmed my worst of fears,
Surelv, — I pray God that I think aright! —
Had but Pompilia^s self, the tender thing 1630

Who once was good and pure, was once my lamb
And lay in my bosom, had the well-known shape
Fronted me in the door-way, — stood there faint
With the recent pang perhaps of giving birth
To what might, though by miracle, seem my child, — 1635
Nay more, I will say, had even the aged fool
Pietro, the dotard, in whom folly and age
Wrought, more than enmity or malevolence.
To practise and conspire against my peace, —
Had either of these but opened, I had paused. 1640

But it was she the hag, she that brought hell
For a dowry with her to her husband^s house,
She the mock-mother, she that made the match
And married me to perdition, spring and source
O' the fire inside me that boiled up from heart 1645

To brain and hailed the Fury gave it birth, —
Violante Comparini, she it was.
With the old grin amid the wrinkles yet,

i82 THE RII^G AND THE BOOK.

Opened : as if in turnin|^ from the Cross,
With trust to keep the sight and save my soul, 1650

I had stumbled, first thing, on the serpent^s head
Coiled with a leer at foot of it. I U /L i

There was the end! ' ^ ^
Then was I rapt away by the impulse, one
Immeasurable everlasting wave of a need
To abolish that detested life. ^T was done: 1655

You know the rest and how the folds o' the thing,
Twisting for help, involved the other two
More or less serpent-like : how I was mad,
Blind, stamped on all, the earth-worms with the asp,
And ended so.

You came on me that night, 1660

Your officers of justice, — caught the crime
In the first natural frenzy of remorse?
Twenty miles off, sound sleeping as a child
On a cloak i^ the straw which promised shelter first.
With the bloody arms beside me, — was it not so? 1665

Wherefore not? Why, how else should I be found?
I was my own self, had my sense again.
My soul safe from the serpents. I could sleep:
Indeed and, dear my lords, I shall sleep now.
Spite of my shoulder, in five minutes' space, 1670

When you dismiss me, having truth enough!
It is but a few days are passed, I find.
Since this adventure. Do you tell me, four?
Then the dead are scarce quiet where they lie.
Old Pietro, old Violante, side by side 1675

At the church Lorenzo, — oh, they know it well!
So do I. But my wife is still alive.
Has breath enough to tell her story yet,
Her way, which is not mine, no doubt at all.
And Caponsacchi, you have summoned him, — 1680

Was he so far to send for? Not at hand?
I thought some few o' the stabs were in his heart,
Or had not been so lavish : less had served.
Well, he too tells his story, — florid prose
As smooth as mine is rough. You see, my lords, 1685

There will be a lying intoxicating smoke
Born of the blood, — confusion probably, —
For lies breed lies — but all that rests with you!
The trial is no concern of mine ; with me
The main of the care is over: I at least 1690

Recognize who took that huge burthen off,
Let me begin to live again. I did
God's bidding and man's duty, so, breathe free ;
Look you to the rest! I heard Himself prescribe.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCmm. 183

That great Physician, and dared lance the core 1695

Of the bad ulcer ; and the rage abates,

I am myself and whole now : I prove cured

By the eyes that see, the ears that hear again,

The limbs that have releamed their youthful play,

The healthy taste of food and feel of clothes 1700

And taking to our common life once more.

All that now urges my defenqe from death.

The willinfi;ness to live, what means it else?

Before, — but let the very action speak!

Judge for yourselves, what life seemed worth to me 1705

Who, not by proxy but in person, pitched

Head-foremost into danger as a fool

That never cares if he can swim or no —

So he but find the bottom, braves the brook.

No man omits precaution, quite neglects 1710

Secrecy, safety, schemes not how retreat,

Having schemed he might advance. Did I so scheme?

Why, with a warrant which \ is ask and have.

With horse thereby made mine without a word,

I had gained the frontier and slept safe that ni&;ht. 1715

Then, my companions, — call them what you {Mease,

Slave or stipendiary, — what need of one

To me whose right-hand did its owner's work?

Hire an assassin yet expose yourself?

As well buy glove and then thrust naked hand 1720

V the thorn-bush. No, the wise man stays at home,

Sends only agents out, with pay to earn :

At home, when they come baclc, — he straight discards

Or else disowns. Why use such tools at all

When a man's foes are of his house, like mine, 1725

Sit at his board, sleep in his bed ? Why noise,

When there's the acquetta and the silent way?

Clearly my life was valueless.

But now /''/ V^
Health is returned, and sanity of soul

Nowise indifferent to the body's harm. 1730

I find the instinct bids me save my life ;
My wits, too, rally round me ; I pick up
And use the arms that strewed the ground before,
Unnoticed or spumed aside : I take my stand,
Make my defence. God shall not lose a life 1735

May do Him further service, while I speak
And you hear, you my judges and last hope!
You are the law : 't is to the law I look.
I began life by hanging to the law.
To the law it is I hang till life shall end. 1740

l84

THE RING AND THE BOOK.

My brother made appeal to the Pope, \ is tnie,

To stay proceedings, judge my cause himself

Nor trouble law, — some fondness of conceit

That rectitude, sagacity sufficed

The investigator in a case like mine, 1745

Dispensed with the machine of law. The Pope

Knew better, set aside my brother^s plea

And put me back to law, — referred the cause

Adjudices meos}^ — doubtlessly did well.

Here, then, I clutch my judges, — I claim law — 1750

Cry, by the higher law whereof your law

O' the land is humbly representative, —

Cry, on what point is it, where either accuse,

I fail to furnish you defence ? I stand

Acquitted, actuaJly or virtually, 1755

By every intermediate kind of court

That takes account of right or wrong in man,

Each unit in the series that begins

With God^s throne, ends with the tribunal here.

God breathes, not speaks, his verdicts, felt not heard, 1760

Passed on successively to each court I call

Man^s conscience, custom, manners, all that make

More and more effort to promulgate, mark

God^s verdict in determinable words,

Till last come human jurists — solidify 1765

Fluid result, — what 's fixable lies forged.

Statute, — the residue escapes in fiime,

Yet hangs aloft, a cloud, as palpable

To the finer sense as word the legist ^ welds.

Justinian's Pandects • only make precise 1770

What simply sparkled in men's eyes before.

Twitched in their brow or quivered on their lip.

Waited the speech they called but would not come.

These courts then, whose decree your own confirms,—

Take my whole life, not this last act alone, 1775

Look on it by the light reflected thence!

What has Society to charge me with ?

Come, unreservedly, — favor none nor fear, —

I am Guido Franceschini, am I not?

You know the courses I was free to take? 1780

I took just that which let me serve the Church,

I gave it all my labor in body and soul

Till these broke down i' the service. "Specify?"

Well, my last patron was a Cardinal.

* Adjudices meos : to my judges.

* Legist : a lawyer.

s yustintatCs Pandects : the digest of
Roman jurists made by order of Justinian in
the sixth century.

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. 185

I left him unconvicted of a fault — 1785

Was even helped, by way of gratitude,

Into the new life that I left him for,

This very misery of the marriage, — he

Made it, kind soul, so far as in him lay —

Signed the deed where you yet may see his name. 1790

He is gone to his reward, — dead, being my friend

Who could have helped here also, — that, of course!

So far, there *s my accjuittal, I suppose.

Then comes the marriage itself — no question, lords,

Of the entire validity of that ! 1795

In the extremity of distress, ^t is true.

For after-reasons, furnished abundantly,

I wished the thing invalid, went to you

Only some months since, set you duly forth

My wrong and prayed your remedy, that a cheat 1800

Should not have force to cheat my whole life long.

" Annul a marriage ? T b impossible!

Though ring about your neck be brass not gold.

Needs must it clasp, gangrene you all the same! "

Well, let me have the benefit, just so far, 1805

O' the fact announced, — my wife then is my wife,

I have allowance for a husband^s right.

I am charged with passing right's due bound, — such acts

As I thought just, my wife called cruelty,

Complained of in due form, — convoked no court 18 10

Of common gossipry, but took her wrongs —

And not once, but so long as patience served —

To the town's top, jurisdiction's pride of place.

To the Archbishop and the Governor.

These heard her charge with my reply, and found 1815

That futile, this sufficient : they dismissed

The hysteric querulous rebel, and confirmed

Authority in its wholesome exercise.

They, with directest access to the fects.

" — Ay, for it was their friendship favored you, 1820

Hereditary alliance against a breach

r the social order : prejudice for the name

Of Franceschini ! " — So I hear it said :

But not here. You, lords, never will you say

" Such is the nullity of grace and truth, 1825

Such the corruption of the faith, such lapse

Of law, such warrant have the Molinists

For daring reprehend us as they do, —

That we pronounce it just a common case,

Two dignitaries, each in his degree 1830

First, foremost, this the spiritual head, and that

The secular arm o' the body politic,

i86 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Should, for mere wrongs* love and injustice* sake,

Side with, aid and abet in cruelty

This broken beggarly noble, — bribed perhaps 1835

By his watered wine and mouldy crust of bread —

Rather than that sweet tremulous flower-like wife

Who kissed their hands and curled about their feet

Looking the irresistible loveliness

In tears that takes man captive, turns** . . . enough! 1840

Do you blast your predecessors? What forbids

Posterity to trebly blast yourselves

Who set the example and instruct their tongue?

You dreaded the crowd, succumbed to the popular cry,

Or else, would nowise seem defer thereto 1845

And yield to public clamor though i* the right!

You ridded your eye of my unseemliness.

The noble whose misfortune wearied you, —

Or, what *s more probable, made common cause

With the cleric section, punished in myself 1850

Maladroit uncomplaisant laity.

Defective in behavior to a priest

Who claimed the customaiy partnership

I* the house and the wife. Lords, any lie wiU serve!

Look to it, — or allow me freed so far! 1855

Then I proceed a step, come with clean hands 1 C {^\

Thus for, re-tell the tale told eight months since. ^

The wife, you allow so for, I have not wronged.

Has fled my roof, plundered me and decamped

In company with the priest her paramour : i860

And I gave chase, came up with, caught the two

At the wayside inn where both had spent the night,

Found them in flagrant fault, and found as well,

By documents with name and plan and date.

The fault was furtive then that*s flagrant now, 1865

Their intercourse a long established crime.

I did not take the license law^s self gives

To slay both criminals o* the spot at the time,

But held my hand, — preferred play prodigy

Of patience which the world calls cowardice, 1870

Rather than seem anticipate the law

And cast discredit on its organs, — you.

So, to your bar I brought both criminals.

And made my statement : heard their counter-charge.

Nay, — their corroboration of my tale, 1875

Nowise disputing its allegements, not

V the main, not more than nature's decency

Compels men to keep silence in this kind, —

Only contending that the deeds avowed

COUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHim. 187

Would take another color and bear excuse. 1880

You were to judge between us ; so you did.

You disregard the excuse, you breathe away

The color of innocence and leave guilt blaoc,

*< Guilty " is the decision of the court,

And that I stand in consequence untouched, 1885

One white integrity from head to heel.

Not guilty? Why then did you punish them?

True, punishment has been inadequate —

'T is not I only, not my Mends that joke,

My foes that jeer, who echo " inadequate " — 1890

For, by a chance that comes to help for once.

The same case simultaneously was judged

At Arezzo, in the province of the Court

Where the crime had its beginning but not end.

They then, deddinjg; on but naif 0* the crime, 1895

The effraction, robberyj — features of the wSX

I never cared to dwell upon at Rome, —

What was it they adjudged as penalty

To Pompilia, — the one criminal 0' the pair

Amenable to their judgment, not the pnest 1900

Who is Rome's ? Why, just imprisonment for life

r the Stinche.^ There was Tuscany's award

To a wife that robs her husband: you at Rome —

Having to deal with adultery in a wife

And, in a priest, breach of the priestly vow — 1905

Give gentle sequestration for a month

In a manageable Convent, then release,

You call imprisonment, in the very house

O' the very couple, which the aim and end

Of the culprits' crime was — just to reach and rest 1910

And there take solace and defy me : well, —

This difference 'twixt their penalty and yours

Is immaterial : make your penalty less —

Merely that she should henceforth wear black gloves

And white fan, she who wore the opposite — 191 5

Why, all the same the fact o' the thing subsists.

Reconcile to your conscience as you may.

Be it on your own heads, you pronounced but half

O' the penalty for heinousness like hers

And his, that pays a fault at Carnival 1920

Of comfit-pelting past discretion's law,

Or accident to handkerchief in Lent

Which falls perversely as a lady kneels

Abruptly, and but half conceals her neck!

I acquiesce for my part : punished, though 1925

> Sttnche : a prison.

i88 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

By a pin-point scratch, means guilty : guilty meuis
— What have I been but innocent nithertor
Anyhow, here the offence, being punished, ends.

/^^

Ends? — for you deemed so, did you not, sweet lords?

That was throughout the veritable aim 1950

O^ the sentence light or heavy, — to redress

Recognized wrong? You righted me, I think?

Well then, — what if I, at this last of all,

Demonstrate you, as my whole pleading proves.

No particle of wrong received tnereby 1935

One atom of right? — that cure grew worse disease?

That in the process you call "justice done"

All along you have nipped awav just inch

By inch the creeping climbing length of plague

Breaking my tree oflife from root to brandi, 1940

And left me, after all and every act

Of your interference, — lightened of what load?

At liberty wherein ? Mere Words and wind!

" Now I was saved, now I should feel no more

The hot breath, find a respite from fixed eye 1945

And vibrant tongue! " Why, scarce your back was turned.

There was the reptile, that feigned death at first,

Renewing its detested spire and spire

Around me^ rising to such heights of hate

That, so far from mere purpose now to crush 1950

And coil itself on the remains of me.

Body and mind, and there flesh fang content,

Its aim is now to evoke life from death,

Make me anew, satisfy in my son

The hunger I may feed but never sate, 1955

Tormented on to perpetuity, —

My son, whom, dead, I shall know, understand,

Feel, hear, see, never more escape the sight

In heaven that ^s turned to hell, or hell returned

(So rather say) to this same earth again, — i960

Moulded into the image and made one.

Fashioned of soul as featured like in face.

First taught to laugh and lisp and stand and go

By that thief, poisoner and adulteress

I call Pompilia, he calls . . . sacred name, 1965

Be unpronounced, be unpolluted here!

And last, led up to the glory and prize of hate

By his . . . foster-father, Caponsacchi's self,

The perjured priest, pink of conspirators.

Tricksters and knaves, vet polished, superfine, 1970

Manhood to model adolescence by!

Lords, look on me, declare, — when, what I show.

couirr GuiDo frai^ceschwi. 189

Is nothing more nor less than what you deemed

And doled me out for justice, — what did you say?

For reparation, restitution and more, — 1975

Will you not thank, praise, bid me to your breasts

For having done the thing you thought to do,

And thoroughly trampled out sin's life at last ?

I have heightened phrase to make your soft speech serve,

Doubled the blow you but essayed to strike, 1980

Carried into effect your mandate here

That else had fallen to ground : mere duty done.

Oversight of the master just supplied

By zeal i^ the servant. I, being used to serve.

Have simply . . . what is it they charge me with? 1985

Blackened again, made legible once more

Your own decree, not permanently writ,

Rightlv conceived but all too faintly traced.

It reacfs efficient, now, comminatory,

A terror to the wicked, answers so 1990

The mood o^ the magistrate, the mind of law.

Absolve, then, me, law's mere executant!

Protect your own defender, — save me. Sirs I

Give me my life, give me my liberty.

My good name and my civic rights again! 1995

It would be too fond, too complacent play

Into the hands o' the devil, should we lose

The game here, I for God : a soldier-bee ^

That yields his life, exenterate ^ with the stroke

O' the sting that saves the hive. I need that life. 2000

Oh, never fear! 1 11 find life plenty use

Though it should last five years more, aches and all!

For, first thing, there 's the mother's age to help —

Let her come break her heart upon my breast

Not on the blank stone of my nameless tomb! 2005

The fugitive brother has to be bidden back

To the old routine, repugnant to the tread.

Of daily suit and service to the Church, —

Thro' gibe and jest, those stones that Shimei flung!

Ay, and the spirit-broken youth at home, 2010

The awe-struck altar-ministrant, shall make

Amends for faith now palsied at the source,

Shall see truth yet triumphant, justice yet

A victor in the battle of this world!

Give me — for last, best gift — my son again, 2015

Whom law makes mine, — I take him at your word,

^ Soldier-hee : a bee that fights for the * Extnttrate : disembowelled,
protection of the hive and sacrifices his life
tm ibe act ^ using his sting.

190 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Mine be he^ by miraculous merqr^ lords!

Let me lift up his youth and innocence

To purify my palace, room by room

Purged of the memories, lend from his bright brow 2020

Light to the old proud paladin my sire

Shrunk now for shame into the darkest shade

O^ the tapestry, showed him once and shrouds him now!

Then may we, — strong from that rekindled smile, —

Go forward, face new times, the better day. 2025

And when, in times made better through your brave

Decision now, — might but Utopia be! —

Rome rife with honest women and strong men,

Manners reformed, old habits back once more,

Customs that recognize the standard worth, — 2030

The wholesome household rule in force again.

Husbands once more God's representative.

Wives like the typical Spouse once more, and Priests

No longer men of Belial, with no aim

At leadmg silly women captive, but 2035

Of rising to such duties as yours now, —

Then will I set my son at my right-hand

And tell his father's story to this point.

Adding ^ The task seemed superhuman, still

I dared and did it, trusting God and law : 2040

And thev approved of me : give praise to both! "

And if, for answer, he shall stoop to kiss

My hand, and peradventure start thereat, —

I engage to smile " That was an accident

r the necessary process, — just a trip 2045

O' the torture-irons in their search for truth, —

Hardly misfortune, and no fault at all."

GtUSEPPE CAPONSACCHi. 191

VI.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI.

[Book VI. gives the story from Caponsacchi's point of view, and, moreover, car-
ries with every word the direct impress of his personality, so that the verity of his
account, the essential quality of Pompilia's influence upon his character, and the
inmost nature both of his service to her and his love for her are clearly and con-
vincingly revealed.]

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?

Have patience ? In this sudden smoke from hell, —

So things disguise themselves, — I cannot see

My own hand held thus broad before my face

And know it again. Answer you? Then that means 5

Tell over twice what I, the first time, told

Six months ago : \ was here, I do believe,

Fronting you same three in this very room,

I stood and told you : vet now no one laughs,

Who then . , . nay, aear my lords, but laugh you did, 10

As good as laugh, what in a judge we style

Laughter — no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!

Only, — I think I apprehend the mood :

There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,

The pen^s pretence at play with the pursed mouth, 15

The titter stifled in the hollow palm

Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,

When I first told my tale : they meant, you know,

" The sly one, all this we are bound believe!

Well, he can say no other than what he says. 20

We have been young, too, — come, there 's greater guilt!

Let him but decently disembroil himself,

Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud, —

We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch! "

And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast 25

As if I were a phantom : now 't is — " Friend,

Collect yourself ! " — no laughing matter more —

" Counsel the Court in this extremity.

Tell us again ! " — tell that, for telling which,

I got the jocular piece of punishment, 30

"V^ sent to lounge a little in the place

Whence now of a sudden here you summon me

To take the intelligence from just — your lips!

You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most, —

192 THE RIl^G AND THE BOOK.

That she I helped eight months since to escape 35

Her husband, was retaken b^ the same.

Three days ago, if I have seized your sense, —

(I being disallowed to interfere,

Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,

For you and law were guardians q^uite enough 40

O' the innocent, without a pert pnest's hel^^ —

And that he has butchered her accordingly,

As she foretold and as myself believed, —

And, so foretelling and believing so.

We were punished, both of us, tne merry way : 45

Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?

Pompilia is only dying while I speak!

Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?

My masters, there *s an old book, you shoidd con

For strange adventures, applicable vet, 50

^T is stufied with. Do you know that there was once

This thing : a multitude of worthy folk

Took recreation, watched a certain group

Of soldiery intent upon a game, —

How first they wrangled, but soon fell to play, 55

Threw dice, — the best diversion in the world.

A word in your ear, — they are now casting lots^

Ay, with that gesture quaint and cry uncouth,

For the coat of One ^ murdered an hour ago!

I am a priest, — talk of what I have learned. 60

Pompilia is bleeding out her life belike.

Gasping away the latest breath of all.

This minute, while I talk — not while you laugh?

Yet, being sobered now, what is it you ask Co

^By way of explanation ? There 's the fact! 65

: It seems to fill the universe with sight
. And sound, — from the four corners of this earth

Tells itself over, to my sense at least.
j But you may want it lower set i' the scale, —

Too vast, too close it clangs in the ear, perhaps ; 70

You M stand back just to comprehend it more.
.Well then, let me, the hollow rock, condense

The voice o' the sea and wind, interpret you

The mystery of this murder. God above!

It is too paltry, such a transference 75

P' the storm's roar to the cranny of the stone!

This deed, you saw begin — why does its end
Surprise you ? Why snould the event enforce

\'

Casting hU . . . for thi C0at of One : Matthew xxvii. 35.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 193

The lesson, we ourselves learned, she and I,

From the first o^ the fact, and taught you, all in vain? 80

This Guido from whose throat you took my grasp.

Was this man to be favored, now, or feared,

Let do his will, or have his will restrained,

In the relation with Pompilia? Say!

Did any other man need interpose 85

— Oh, though first comer, though as strange at the work

As fribble must be, coxcomb, fool that ^s near

To knave as, say, a priest who fears the world —

Was he bound brave the peril, save the doomed,

Or go on, sin^ his snatch and pluck his flower, 90

Keep the straight path and let the victim die?

I held so ; you decided otherwise.

Saw no such peril, therefore no such need
[To stop song, loosen flower, and leave path. Law,
HLaw was aware and watching, would suffice, 95

Wanted no priesf s intrusion, palpably

Pretence, too manifest a subterfii^el

Whereupon I, priest, coxcomb, fnbble and fool,

Ensconced me in my comer, thus rebuked,

A kind of culprit, over-zealous hound 100

Kicked for his pains to kennel ; I gave place,

To you, and let the law reign paramount :

I left Pompilia to your watch and ward.

And now you point me — there and thus she lies!

Men, for the last time, what do you want with me? 105

Is it, — you acknowledge, as it were, a use,
A profit in employing me? — at length
I may conceivablv hdp the august law?
I am free to break the blow, next hawk that swoops
On next dove, nor miss much of good repute? no

Or what if this your summons, after all.
Be but the form of mere release, no more,
Which turns the key and lets the captive go?
I have paid enough in person at Civita,

Am free, — what more need I concern me with? 115

Thank you! I am rehabilitated then,
A very reputable priest. But she —
The glory of life, the beauty of the world.
The splendor of heaven, . . . well. Sirs, does no one move?
Do I speak ambiguously? The glory, I say, 120

And the beauty, I say, and splendor, still sav I,
' Who, priest and trained to live my whole life long
On beauty and splendor, solely at their source,
God, — have thus recognized mv food in her.
You tell me, that^s fast dying while we talk, 12^

194 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Pompilia! How does lenity to me,

Remit one death-bed pang to her? Come, smile!

The proper wink at the hot-headed youth

Who lets his soul show, through transparent words,

The mundane love that ^s sin and scandal too! 130

You are all struck acquiescent now, it seems :

It seems the oldest, gravest signor here.

Even the redoubtable Tommati, sits

Chop-fallen, — understands how law might take

Service like mine, of brain and heart and hand, 135

In good part. Better late than never, law

You understand of a sudden, gospel too

Has a claim here, may possiblv pronounce

Consistent with my priesthood, worthy Christ,

That I endeavored to save Pompilia?

Then, 140

You were wrong, you see : that *s well to see, though late : '
That 's all we may expect of man, this side
The grave : his good is — knowing he is bad :
Thus will it be with us when the books ope
And we stand at the bar on judgment-day. 145

Well then, I have a mind to speak, see cause
To relume the quenched flax by this dreadful light,
Bum my soul out in showing you the truth.
I heard, last time I stood here to be judged.
What is priest'sKluty, — labor to pluck tares 150

And weed the com of Molinism ; let me
Make you hear, this time, how, in such a case,
Man, be he in the priesthood or at plough,
Mindful of Christ or marching step by step
With . . . what 's his style, the other potentate 155

Who bids have courage and keep honor safe,
Nor let minuter admonition tease? —
How he is bound, better or worse, to act.
Earth will not end through this misjudgment, no!
For you and the others iflce you sure to come, 160

Fresh work is sure to follow, — wickedness
That wants withstanding. Many a man of blood.
Many a man of guile will clamor yet.
Bid you redress his grievance, — as he cKitched
The prey, forsooth a stranger stepped between, 165

And there 's the good gripe in pure waste! My part
Is done ; i' the doing it, I pass away
Out of the world. I want no more with earth.
Let me, in heaven's name, use the very snuff
O' the taper in one last spark shall show truth 170

For a moment, show Pompilia who was true!

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI. 195

Not for her sake, but yours : if she is dead.
Oh, Sirs, she can be loved by none of you
Most or least priestly! Saints, to do us good,

fust be in heaven, I seem to understand : 175

e never find them saints before, at least,
i her first prayer then presently for you —
le has done the good to me . . .

What is all this?
There, I was bom, have lived, shall die, a fool!
This is a foolish outset : — might with cause 180

Give color to the very lie o' the man.
The murderer, — make as if I loved his wife.
In the way he called love. He is the fool there!
Why, had there been in me the touch of taint,
I had picked up so much of knaves^-policy 185

As hide it, keep one hand pressed on the place
Suspected of a spot would damn us both.
Or no, not her! — not even if any of you
Dares think that I, i^ the face of death, her death
That ^s in my eyes and ears and brain and heart, 190

Lie, — if he does, let him ! I mean to say.
So he stop there, stay thought from smirching her
The snow-white soul that angels fear to take
Untenderly. But, all the same, I know
I too am taintless, and I bare my breast. 195

You can^t think, men as you are, all of you,
But that, to hear thus suddenlv such an end
Of such a wonderful white soul, that comes
Of a man and murderer calling the white black.
Must shake me, trouble and disadvantage. Sirs, 200

Only seventeen!

Why, ^ood and wise you are! '-? ^
You might at the beginnmg stop my mouth :
So, none would be to speak for her, that knew.
I talk impertinently, and you bear,

All the same. This it is to have to do 205 -

With honest hearts : they easily may err,
L But in the main they wish well to the truth.
You are Christians ; somehow, no one ever plucked
A rag, even, from the body of the Lord,
To wear and mock with, but, despite himself, 210

He looked the greater and was the better. Yes,
I shall go on now. Does she need or not
I keep calm ? Calm I Ul keep as monk that croons
Transcribing battle, earthquake, famine, plague.
From parchment to his cloister's chronicle. 215

Not one word more from the point now!

196 THE RING AND THE BOOK. ^ ^

YeSy I am one of your body and a priest.

Also I am a younger son o* the House

Oldest now, greatest once, in my birth-town

Arezzo, I recognize no equal there — 320

(I want all arguments, all sorts of arms

That seem to serve, — use this for a reason^ wait!)

Not therefore thrust into the Church, because

O^ the piece of bread one gets there. We were first

Of Fiesole, that rings still with the £une 225

Of Capo-in-Sacco ^ our progenitor :

When Florence ruined Fiesole, our folk

Migrated to the victor-city, and there

Flourished, — our palace and our tower attest,

In the Old Mercato,^ — this was years ago, 230

Four hundred, full, — no, it wants fourteen just.

Our arms are those of Fiesole itself

The shield quartered with white and red : a branch

Are the Salviati of us, nothing more.

That were good help to the Church? But better still — 235

Not simply for the advantage of my birth

V the way of the world, was I proposed for priest ;

But because there ^s an illustration, late

r the day, that ^s loved and looked to as a saint

Still in Arezzo, he was bishop of 240

Sixty years since : he spent to the last doit

His bishop's-revenue among the poor.

And used to tend the needy and the sick,

Barefoot, because of his humility.

He it was, — when the Granduke Ferdinand * 245

Swore he would raze our city, plough the place

And sow it with salt, because we Axetines

Had tied a rope about the neck, to hale

The statue of his father from its base

For haters sake, — he availed by prayers and tears 250

To pacify the Duke and save the town.

This was my father^s father's brother. You sec,

For his sake, how it was I had a rieht

To the self-same office, bishop in the egg.

So, grew i' the garb and prattled in the school, 255

Was made expect, from infancy almost.

The proper mood o' the priest ; till time ran by

And brought the day when I must read the vows,

> Capo-in-Sacco : • Mercato : market (sec preceding note).

" Already had Caponsacco to the Market ^Ferdinand: Ferdinand II., Grandnluke

Prom Fiesole descended." of Tuscany, X63X-X670, one of the Medici.
(Dante's ** Paradiso," zvi. xax.)

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL Vff

Declare the world renounced and undertake

To become priest and leave probation, — leap 260

Over the ledge into the other life,

Having gone trippingly hitherto up to the height

O^er the wan water. Just a vow to read!

I stopped short awe-struck. '' How shall holiest flesh '
Engage to keep such vow inviolate, 265

How much less mine ? * I know myself too weak,
I^Unworthy I Choose a worthier stronger man! "
And the very Bishop smiled and stopped my mouth
In its mid-protestation. << Incapable ?

Qualmish of conscience ? Thou ingenuous boy! 270

Clear up the clouds and cast thy scruples £ur!
I satisfy thee there 's an easier sense
Wherem to take such vow than suits the first
Rough ridd reading. Mark what makes all smooth.
Nay, has been even a solace to myself! 275

The Jews who needs must, in theur synagogue,
Utter sometimes the holy name of God,
A thing their superstition boggles at,
Pronounce aloud the ineffable sacrosanct,^ —
How does their shrewdness help them ? In this wise ; 280
Another set of sounds they substitute,
Jumble so consonants ana vowels — how
Should I know? — that there grows from out the old
Quite a new word that means the very same —
And o^er the hard place slide they with a smile. 285

Giuseppe Maria Caponsacchi mine.
Nobody wants you in these latter days
To prop the Church by breaking your back-bone, «>
As the necessary way was once, we know.
When Diocletian ^ flourished and his like. 290

That building of the buttress-work was done
y martyrs and confessors : let it bide, *
Add not a brick, but, where you see a chink,
Stick in a sprig of ivy or root a rose

1 make amends and beautify the pile! 295

We profit as you were the painmllest
O' the mart)rrs, and you prove yourself a match
For the cruelest confessor ever was,
If you march boldly up and take your stand
Wnere their blood soaks, their bones yet strew the soil, 300
And cry * Take notice, I the young and free

1 Saeroaanci : the Hebrews, regarding * DwcUtian : the Roman Emperor (a84r
die Sscred Name aa unspeakable, substitute 305) under whom the last persecutions of the
Adonai for ^ahwi in reading. Christians were held.

198 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And well-to-do i^ the world, thus leave the wcnrld,

Cast in my lot thus with no gay young world

But the grand old Church : she tempts me of the two! '

Renounce the world ? Nay, keep and give it us! 305

Let us have you, and boast of what you bring.

We want the pick o' the earth to practise with,

Not its offscouring, halt and deaf and blind

In soul and body. There ^s a rubble-stone

Unfit for the front o' the builcfing, stuff to stow 310

In a gap behind and keep us weather-tight ;

There 's porphyry for the prominent place. Good lack!

Saint Paul has had enough and to spare, I trow,

Of ragged run-away Onesimus : ^

He wants the right-hand with the signet-ring 315

Of King Agrippa,'^ now, to shake and use.

I have a heavy scholar cloistered up,

Close under lock and key, kept at his task

Of letting F^nelon * know the fool he is,

In a book I promise Christendom next Spring. 320

Why, if he covets so much meat, the clown,

As a lark's wing next Friday, or, any day,

Diversion beyond catching his own fleas.

He shall be properly swinged, I promise him.

But you, who are so quite another paste 325

Of a man, — do you obey me ? Cultivate

Assiduous that superior gift you have

Of making madrigals — (who told me ? Ah!)

Get done a Marinesque Adoniad * straight

With a pulse o' the blood a-pricking, here and there, 330

That I may tell the lady * And he 's ours! ' "

, f So I became a priest : those terms changed all, ^ ^ "^
! I was good enough for that, nor cheated so ;
|l could live thus and still hold head erect,
i^ow you see why I may have been before 335

A fribble and coxcomb, yet, as priest, l^reak word
Nowise, to make you disbelieve me now.
I need that you should know my truth. Well, then,
According to prescription did I live,

— Conformed myself, both read the breviary 340

And wrote the rhymes, was punctual to my place
r the Pieve,* and as diligent at my post

"^Onesimus: Philemon, verses zz, z8. "Adone" of Giovanni Battista Marino (or

* Agrippa : Acts xxvii. Marini) , published in Z633, and veiy popular
' Finelon : the French preacher and arch- during the seventeenth century.

bishop of Cambrai (Z65Z-175Z) who adopted ^ Pieve : Sta. Maria della Pieve, one of
the mystical doctrines of Molinos. the principal parish churches in Areszo.

* A Marinesque A doniad : alluding to the

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 199

Where beauty and fashion rule. I throve apace.

Sub-deacon, Canon, the authority

For delicate plav at tarocs,^ and arbiter 345

O* the magnituae of &n-mounts : all the while

Wanting no whit the advantage of a hint

Benignant to the promising pupil, — thus :

<< Enough attention to the Countess now.

The young one ; \ is her mother rules the roast, 350

We know where, and puts in a word : go pay

Devoir to-morrow morning after mass!

Break that rash promise to preach. Passion-week!

Has it escaped you the Archbishop fi;runts

And snuffles when one grieves to teU his Grace 355

No soul dares treat the sujbect of the dav

Since his own masterly handling it (ha, na!^

Five years ago, — when somebody could help

And touch up an odd phrase in time of need,

(He, he!) — and somebody helps you, my son! 360

Therefore, don't prove so mdispensable

At the Pieve, sit more loose i' tibe seat, nor grow

A fixture by attendance mom and eve!

Arezzo 's just a haven midway Rome —

Rome 's the eventual harbor, — make for port, 365

Crowd sail, crack cordage! And your cargo be

A polished presence, a genteel manner, wit

At will, and tact at every pore of you!

I sent our lump of learmn^. Brother Clout,

And Father Slouch, our piece of piety, 370

To see Rome and try suit the Cardinal.

Thither they clump-clumped, beads and book in hand.

And ever since \ is meat for man and maid

How both flopped down, prayed blessing on bent pate

Bald many an inch beyond the tonsure's need, 375

Never once dreaming, the two moony dolts.

There 's nothing moves his Eminence so much

As — far from 3l this awe at sanctitude —

Heads that wag, eyes that twinkle, modified mirth

At the closet-lectures on the Latin tongue 380

A lady learns so much by, we know where.

Why, body o' Bacchus, you should crave his rule

For pauses in the elegiac couplet, chasms

Permissible only to Catullus! 2 There!

Now go to duty : brisk, break Priscian's head * 385

^ TVirofx .* a card game. ^ Break Priscian** head: break the

' Catullus : the Latin poet, especially dis- rules of classical Latin grammar, on which

tinguished for the el^ance and polish of his Prisdan was the most famous ancient author-

verse (87-47 b*c). ity.

300 THE RmO AI^D THE BOOK.

By reading the day^s office — there 's no help.
You Ve Ovid ^ in your poke to plaster that ;
Amen ^s at the end of all : then sup with me! *'

Well, after three or four years of this life, J
In prosecution of my calling, I 390

Found myself at the theatre one night
With a brother Canon, in a mood and mind
Proper enough for the place, amused or no :
^hen I saw enter, stand, and seat herself
A lady, young, tall, beautiful, strange and sad. 395

It was as when, in our cathedral once.
As I got yawningly through matin-song,
I s2iVi facMni^ bear a burden up.
Base It on the high-altar, break away

A board or two, and leave the thing inside 400

Lofty and lone : and lo, when next I looked,
There was the Rafael! I was still one stare,
When — " Nay, I '11 make her give you back your gaze " —
Said Canon Conti ; and at the wora he tossed
A paper-twist of comfits to her lap, 405

And dodged and in a trice was at my back
Nodding from over my shoulder. Then she turned,
Looked our way, smiled the beautiful sad strange smile.
" Is not she fair? 'T is my new cousin," said he :
" The fellow lurking there i' the black o' the box 410

Is Guido, the old scapegrace : she 's his wife,
Married three years smce : how his Countship sulks!
He has brought little back from Rome beside,
After the bragging, bullying. A fair face,
And — they do say — a pocketful of gold 41 5

When he can worry both her parents dead.
I don't go much there, for the chamber 's cold
And the coffee pale. I got a turn at first
Paying my duty : I observed they crouched

^ — The two old frightened family spectres — close 420

\ In a corner, each on each like mouse on mouse

[I' the cat's cage : ever since, I stay at home.

^allo, there 's Guido, the black, mean and small.
Bends his brows on us — please to bend your own
On the shapely nether limbs of Light-skirts there 425

By way of a diversion! I was a fool
To fling the sweetmeats. Prudence, for God's love!

^Ovid: distinctively a secular favorite ^Facchini: portcn.
among Latin poets (43 b.c.>i8 a.d.) because
of his love themes and tales of Pagan gods.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHl. 30i

To-morrow PU make my peace, e^en tell some fib.
Try if I can't find means to take you there."

; C

That night and next day did the gaze endure, U -> 430

Burnt to my brain, as sunbeam thro' shut eyes,

And not once changed the beautiful sad strange smile.

~At vespers Conti leaned beside my seat

r the choir, — part said, part sung — "/« ex-cel-sis —

All 's to no purpose ; I have louted low, 435

But he saw you staring — quia sub — don't incline

To know you nearer : him we would not hold

For Hercules, — the man would lick your shoe

If you and certain efficacious friends

Managed him warily, — but there 's the wife : 440

Spare her, because ne beats her, as it is.

She 's breaking her heart quite fast enough — jam tu —

So, be you rational and make amends

With little Light-skirts yonder — in secula

SecU'lO'0-o-(hrum,^ Ah, you rogue ! Every one knows 445

What great dame she makes jesdous : one against one.

Play, and win both! "

Sirs, ere the week was out,
I saw and said to myself << Light-skirts hides teeth
Would make a dog sick, — the great dame shows spite
Should drive a cat mad : 't is but poor work this — 450

Counting one's fingers till the sonnet 's crowned.
I doubt much if Marino ^ really be
A better bard than Dante after all.
'T is more amusing to go pace at eve.

I' the Duomo, — watch the day's last gleam outside 455

Turn, as into a skirt of God's own rol^.
Those lancet-windows' jewelled miracle, —
Than go eat the Archbishop's ortolans,
Digest his jokes. Luckily Lent is near :
Who cares to look will find me in my stall 460

At the Pieve, constant to this faith at least —
Never to write a canzonet' any more."

So, next week, 't was my patron spoke abrupt, ^ '

In altered guise. "Young man, can it be true

That after all your promise of sound finit, 565

You have kept away from Countess young or old

"^Inexcelsis , . . steula secular um : the ''Adonis" already refened to (1. 323), and
gloria chanted at the end of each Psalm; in who was famed in his day (1569) and patron-
Latin in Roman Catholic churches, in Eng- ized by cardinals and kings,
lish in the Anglican church. » Canzonet : 9, pne-, two-, or three-part

* Af^riw ; tb« Italian poet, who wrote the 9Qn^,

202 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And gone play truant in church all day long?

Are you turning Molinist? ^' I answered quick :

" Sir, what if I turned Christian? It might be.

The fact is, I am troubled in my mind, 470

Beset and pressed hard by some novel thoughts.

This your Arezzo is a limited world ;

There 's a strange Pope, — 't is said, a priest who thinks.

Rome is the po^ you say : to Rome I eo.

I will live alone, one does so in a crowd, 475

And look into my heart a little. ^^ << Lent

Ended," — I told friends — " I shall go to Rome."

One evening I was sitting in a muse ^ \ -^

Over the opened " Summa," ^ darkened round
By the mid-March twilight thinking how my life 480

Had shaken under me, — broke short indeea
And showed the gap ^twixt what is, what should be, —
And into what abysm the soul may slip.
Leave aspiration here, achievement there.
Lacking omnipotence to connect extremes — 485

Thinking moreover ... oh, thinking, if you like,
How utterly dissociated was I
A priest and celibate, from the sad strange wife
Of Guido, — just as an instance to the point.
Nought more, — how I had a whole store of strengths 490
Eating into my heart, which craved employ.
And she, perhaps, need of a finger's help, —
And yet there was no way in the wide world
To stretch out mine and so relieve myself —
How when the page o' the Summa preached its best, 495

Her smile kept glowing out of it, as to mock
The silence we could break by no one word, —
There came a tap without the chamber-door.
And a whisper ; when I bade who tapped speak out.
And, in obedience to my summons, last 500

In glided a masked muffled mystery.
Laid lightly a letter on the opened book.
Then stood with folded arms and foot demure,
Pointing as if to mark the minutes' flight.

I took the letter, read to the effect - ^ ' - 505

That she, I lately flung the comfits to.

Had a warm heart to give me in exchange.

And gave it, — loved me and confessed it thus.

And bade me render thanks by word of mouth,

Going that night to such a side o' the house 510

> Summa : the " Summa Theologiae," or Summary of Theology, of Thomas Aquinas.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCm. 203

Where the small terrace overhangs a street
Blind and deserted, not the street in front :
Her husband being away, the surly patch.
At his villa of Vittiano.

'- ?. '-^
" And you ? " — I asked : ^ .

" What may you be ? " " Count Guido's kind of maid — 515

Most of us have two functions in his house.

We all hate him, the lady suffers much,

^T is just we show compassion, furnish help.

Specially since her choice is fixed so well.

What answer may I bring to cheer the sweet 520

Pompilia?"

Then I took a pen and wrote >

" No more of this ! That you are fair, I know :
But other thoughts now occupy my mind.
I should not thus have played the insensible
Once on a time. What made you, — may one ask, — 525
Marry your hideous husband ? T was a fault,
And now you taste the fruit of it. Farewell."

<< There! " smiled I as she snatched it and was gone —

" There, let the jealous miscreant, — Guido's self.

Whose mean soul grins through this transparent trick, — 530

Be baulked so far, defrauded of his aim!

What fund of satisfaction to the knave,

Had I kicked this his messen^^er down stairs.

Trussed to the middle of her impudence.

And set his heart at ease so! No, indeed! 535

There 's the reply which he shall turn and twist

At pleasure, snuff at till his brain grow drunk,

As the bear does when he finds a scented glove

That puzzles him, — a hand and yet no hand.

Of other perfume than his own foul paw! 540

Last month, I had doubtless chosen to play the dupe,

Accepted the mock-invitation, kept

The sham appointment, cudgel beneath cloak.

Prepared myself to pull the appointer's self

Out of the window from his hiding-place 545

Behind the gown of this part-messenger

Part-mistress who would personate the wife.

Such had seemed once a jest permissible : '

Now I am not i' the mood."

Back next mom brought -
The messenger, a second letter in hand. ^^o

204 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

" You are cruel^ Thyrsis, and Myrtilla* moans

Neglected but adores you^ makes request

For mercy : why is it you dare not come ?

Such virtue is scarce natural to your age.

You must love some one else ; I hear you do, 555

The Baron's daughter or the Advocate's wife,

Or both, — all 's one, would you make me the third —

I take the crumbs from table gratefully

Nor grudge who feasts there. 'Faith, I blush and blaze!

Yet if I break all bounds, there 's reason sure. 560

Are you determinedly bent on Rome ?

I am wretched here, a monster tortures me :

Carry me with you! Come and say you will!

Concert this very evening! Do not write!

I am ever at the window of my room 565

Over the terrace, at the Ave,^ Come!"

I questioned — lifting half the woman's mask ^ ^

To let her smile loose. " So, you gave my line

To the merry lady ? " " She kissed off the wax,

And put what paper was not kissed away, 570

In her bosom to go burn : but merry, no!

She wept all night when evening brought no friend,

Alone, the unkind missive at her breast ;

Thus Philomel,^ the thorn at her breast too.

Sings" . . . "Writes this second letter?" "Even so! 575

Then she may peep at vespers forth ? " — " What risk

Do we run o' the husband? " — "Ah, — no risk at all I

He is more stupid even than jealous. Ah —

That was the reason? Why, the man 's away!

Beside, his bugbear is that friend of yours, 580

Fat little Canon Conti. He fears him.

How should he dream of you ? I told you truth :

He goes to the villa at Vittiano — 't is

The time when Spring-sap rises in the vine —

Spends the night there. And then his wife 's a child : 585

Does he think a child outwits him ? A mere child :

Yet so full grown, a dish for any duke.

Don't quarrel longer with such cates, but come! "

I wrote "In vain do you solicit me.

I am a priest : and you are wedded wife, 590

Whatever kind of brute your husband prove.

* Thyrsis and MyrttUa : common names * Philomel : Philomela's sorrows are sung

in pastoral poetry for shepherd and maid in by the nightingale into whose form the maiden

love with each other. passed, according to the fable referred to

^ Ave : Ave Maria or •* Hail Mary/' etc., here. See also, Shakespeare, " Rape of Lu*

tha prayer used at evening. crece," 1x35.

GIUSEPPE CAPQNSACCHI. 30$

I have scruples, in short. Yet should you really show
Sign at the window . . . but nay, best be good!
My thoughts are elsewhere." " Take her that 1 "

<^ Again

Let the incarnate meanness, cheat and spy, 595

Mean to the marrow of him, make his heart

His food, anticipate helPs worm once morel

Let him watch shivering at the window ^ ay,

And let this hybrid, this his light-of*love

And lackey-of-lies, — a sage economy, — 600

Paid with embracings for the rank brass coin^-^

Let her report and make him chuckle o^er

The break-down of my resolution now,

And lour at disappointment in good time !

— So tantalize and so enrage by turns, 605

Until the two fall each on me other like

Two famished spiders, as the coveted fly

That toys lon^, leaves their net and them at lastP'

And so the missives followed thick and fast

For a month, say, — I still came at every turn 610

On the soft sly adder, endlong 'neath my tread.

I was met i^ the street, made sign to in the church,

A slip was found i^ the door-sill, scribbled word

'Twixt page and page o* the prayer-book in my place.

A crumpled thing c&opped even before my feet, 615

Pushed through the blind, above the terrace-rail,

As I passed, by day, the very window once.

And ever from comers would be peering up

The messenger, with the self-same demand

'^ Obdurate still, no flesh but adamant ? 620

Nothing to cure the wound, assuage the throe

O' the sweetest lamb that ever loved a bear?"

And ever my one answer in one tone —

" Go your ways, temptress ! Let a priest read, pray,

Unplagued of vain talk, visions not for him! 625

In the end, you '11 have your will and ruin me! "

One day, a variation : thus I read : C-r 3 ^^

" You have &;ained little by timidity.

My husband has found out my love at length,

Sees cousin Conti was the stalking-horse, 630

And you the game he covered, poor fat soul!

My husband is a formidable foe.

Will stick at nothing to destroy you. Stand

Prepared, or better, run till you reach Rome!

I bade you visit me, when the last place 635

My tyrant would have turned suspicious at.

Or cared to seek you in, was . . . why say, where?

2o6 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

But now all ^s changed : beside, the season ^s past

At the villa, — wants the master's eye no more.

Anyhow, I beseech you, stay away 640

From the window! He might well be posted there."

I wrote — " You raise my courage, or call up

My curiosity, who am but man.

Tell him he owns the palace, not the street

Under — that 's his and yours and mine alike. 645

If it should please me pad the path this eve,

Guido will have two troubles, nrst to get

Into a rage and then get out again.

Be cautious, though : at the Ave I " / kT'J)

You of the Court! ^^
When I stood question here and reached this point 650

O' the narrative, — search notes and see and say
If some one did not interpose with smile
And sneer, "And prithee why so confident
That the husband must, of all needs, not the wife,
Fabricate thus, — what if the lady loved ? 655

What if she wrote the letters ? "

Learned Sir,
I told you there 's a picture in our church.
Well, if a low-browed verger sidled up
Bringing me, like a blotch, on his prod's point,
A transfixed scorpion, let the reptile writhe, 660

And then said " See a thing that Rafael made —
This venom issued from Madonna's mouth!"
I should reply, " Rather, the soul of you
Has issued from your body, like from like,
By way of the ordure-corner! "

But no less, 665

I tired of the same long black teasing lie
Obtruded thus at every turn ; the pest
Was far too near the picture, anyhow :
One does Madonna service, making clowns

Remove their dung-heap from the sacristy. 670

" I will to the window, as he tempts," said I :
" Yes, whom the easy love has failed allure,
This new bait of adventure tempts, — thinks he.
Though the imprisoned lady keeps afar,

There will they lie in ambush, heads alert, 675

Kith, kin, and Count mustered to bite my heel.
No mother nor brother viper of the brood "^^
Shall scuttle off without the instructive bruise !j^

So I went : crossed street and street : "The next street's turn, '^
I stand beneath the terrace, see, above, 680

/

\

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 207

The black of the ambush-window. Then, in place

Of hand's throw of soft prelude over lute,

And cough that clears way for the ditty last," —

I began to laugh already — " he will have

* Out of the hole you hide in, on to the front, 685

Count Guido Franceschini, show yourself!

Hear what a man thinks of a thing like you,

And after, take this foulness in your face! ' *'

The words lay living on my lip, I made *^( ^

The one-turn more — and there at the window stood, 690

Framed in its black square length, with lamp in hand,

Pompilia ; the same great, grave, griefiul air

As stands i' the dusk, on altar that I know.

Left alone with one moonbeam in her cell.

Our Lady of all the Sorrows.^ Ere I knelt — 695

Assured myself that she was flesh and blood —

She had looked one look and vanished.

I thought — " Just so :
It was herself, they have set her there to watch —
Stationed to see some wedding-band go by,
On fair pretence that she must bless the bride, 700

Or wait some funeral with friends wind past.
And crave peace for the corpse that claims its due.
She never dreams they used her for a snare,
And now withdraw the bait has served its turn.
Well done, the husband, who shall fare the worse! " 705

And on my lip again was — " Out with thee,
Guido! ". When all at once she reappeared ;
But, this time, on the terrace overhead,
So close above me, she could almost touch
My head if she bent down ; and she did bend, 710

While I stood still as stone, all eye, all ear..

/»■

She began — "You have sent me letters. Sir: "

I have read none, I can neither read nor write ;

But she you gave them to, a woman here.

One of the people in whose power I am, 715

Partly explained their sense, I think, to me

Obliged to listen while she inculcates

That you, a priest, can dare love me, a wife,

Desire to live or die as I shall bid,

(She makes me listen if I will or no) 720

Because you saw my face a single time.

^ Our Lady : the Virgin Mary painted with a sword in her breast to represent her
griefs, St. Luke xi. 35.

'\

3o8 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

It cannot be sh^^sa^s^he thing you mean ;

Such wickedness were deadly to us both :

But good true love would help me now so much ^-o

I tell myself, you may mean good and true. 725

You offer me, I seem to understand,

Because I am in poverty and starve,

Much money, where one piece would save my life.

The silver cup upon the altar-cloth

Is neither yours to give nor mine to take ; 730

But I might take one bit of bread therefrom,

Since I am starving, and return the rest,

Yet do no harm : this is my very case.

I am in that strait, I may not dare abstain

From so much of assistance as would bring 735

The guilt of theft on neither you nor me ;

But no superfluous particle 01 aid.

I think, if you will let me state my case,

Even had you been so fancy-fevered here.

Not your sound self, you must grow healthy now — 740

Care only to bestow what I can take.

That it is only you in the wide world,

Knowing me nor in thought nor word nor deed,

Who, all unprompted save by your own heart.

Come proffering assistance now, — were strange 745

But that my whole life b so strange : as strange

It is, my husband whom I have not wronged

Should hate and harm me. For his own souPs sake,

Hinder the harm ! But there is something more,

And that the strangest : it has got to be 750

Somehow for my sake too, and yet not mine,

— This is a riddle — for some kind of sake

Not any clearer to myself than you,

And yet as certain as that I draw breath, —

I would fain live, not die — oh no, not die! 755

My case is, I was dwelling happily

At Rome with those dear Comparini, called

Father and mother to me ; when at once

I found I had become Count Guido's wife :

Who then, not waiting for a moment, changed 760

Into a fury of fire, if once he was

Merely a man : his face threw fire at mine.

He laid a hand on me that burned all peace.

All joy, all hope, and last all fear away,

Dipping the bough of life, so pleasant once, 7^5

In fire which shrivelled leaf and bud alike.

Burning not only present life but past,

Which you might think was safe beyond his reach.

He reached it, though, since that beloved pair,

GIUSEPPE CAPOI^SACCm. 209

My father once, my mother all those vears^ 770

That loved me so, now say I dreamea a dream

And bid me wake, henceforth no child of theirs,

Never in all the time their child at all.

Do you understand ? I cannot : yet so it ia.

Just so I say of you that proffer help ! 775

I cannot understand what prompts your soul,*

I simply needs must see that it is so,

Only one strange and wonderful thine more.

They came here with me, those two dear ones, kept

All the old love up, till my husband, till 780

His people here so tortured them, they fled.

And now, is it because I grow in flesh

And spirit one with him their torturer,

That they, renouncing him, must cast off me?

If I were graced by God to have a child, 785

Could I one day deny God graced me so?

Then, since my husband hates me, I shall break

No law that reigns in this fell house of hate.

By using — lettmg have effect so much

Of hate as hides me from that whole of hate 790

Would take my life which I want and must have —

Just as I take from your excess of love

Enough to save my life with, all I need.

The Archbishop said to murder me were sin :

My leaving Guido were a kind of death 795

With no sm, — more death, he must answer for.

Hear now what death to him and life to you

I wish to pay and owe. Take me to Rome!

You go to Rome, the servant makes me hear.

Take me as you would take a dog, I think, 800

Masterless left for strangers to maltreat :

Take me home like that — leave me in the house

Where the father and the mother are ; and soon

They '11 come to know and call me by my name.

Their child once more, since child I am, for all 805

They now forget me, which is the worst o' the dream —

And the way to end dreams is to break them, stand.

Walk, go : then help me to stand, walk and go!

The Governor said the strong should help the weak :

You know how weak the strongest women are. 810

How could I find my way there by myself ?

I cannot even call out, make them hear —

Just as in dreams : I have tried and proved the fiact.

I have told this story and more to good great men,

The Archbishop and the Governor : they smiled. 815

* Stop your mouth, fair one! ' — presently they frowned,

* Get you gone, disengage you from our feet! '

210 THE Rll^ AND THE BOOK.

I went in my despair to an old priest,

Only a friar, no great man like these two,

But good, the Augustinian, people name 820

Romano, — he confessed me two months since :

He fears God, why then needs he fear the world?

And when he questioned how it came about

That I was found in danger of a sin —

Despair of any help from providence, — 825

^ Since, though your husband outrage you,^ said he,

* That is a case too common, the wives die
Or live, but do not sin so deep as this ' —
Then I told — what I never will tell you —

How, worse than husband^s hate, I had to bear 830

The love, — soliciting to shame called love, —

Of his brother, — the young idle priest i' the house

With only the devil to meet there. * This is grave —

Yes, we must interfere : I counsel, — write

To those who used to be your parents once, 835

Of dangers here, bid them convey you hence!'

* But,' said I, ' when I neither read nor write ? '
Then he took pity and promised ' I will write.'
If he did so, — why, they are dumb or dead :

Either they give no credit to the tale, 840

Or else, wrapped wholly up in their own joy

Of such escape, they care not who cries, still

r the clutches. Anyhow, no word arrives.

All such extravagance and dreadfulness

Seems incident to dreaming, cured one way, — 845

Wake me! The letter I received this morn.

Said — if the woman spoke your very sense —

* You would die for me : ' I can believe it now :
For now the dream gets to involve yourself.

First of all, you seemed wicked and not good, 850

In writing me those letters : you came in

Like a thief upon me. I this morning said

In my extremity, entreat the thief !

Try lif he have in him no honest touch !

A thief might save me from a murderer. 855

'T was a thief said the last kind word to Christ :

Christ took the kindness aad forgave the theft :

And so did I prepare what I now say.

But now, that you stand and I see your face,

Though you have never uttered word yet, — well, I know, 860

Here too has been dream-work, delusion too,

And that at no time, you with the eyes here,

Ever intended to do wrong by me,

Nor wrote such letters therefore. It is false.

And you are true, have been true, will be true. 865

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI. 211

To Rome then, — when is it you take me there?
Each minute lost is mortal. When? — I ask."

I answered ^' It shall be when it can be.

I will go hence and do your pleasure, find

The sure and speedy means of travel, then 870

Come back and take you to your friends in Rome.

There wants a carriage, money and the rest, —

A day's work by to-morrow at this time.

How shall I see you and assure escape?"

She replied, " Pass, to-morrow at this hour. 875

If I am at the open window, well :

If I am absent, drop a handkerchief

And walk by! I shall see from where I watch,

And know that all is done. Return next eve,

And next, and so till we can meet and speak!" 880

" To-morrow at this hour I pass," said I.

She was withdrawn.

Here is another point
I bid you pause at. When I told thus far,
Some one said, subtly, " Here at least was found
Your confidence in error, — you perceived 885

The spirit of the letters, in a sort.
Had been the lady's, if the body should be
Supplied by Guido : say, he forged them all!
Here was the unforged fact — she sent for you,
Spontaneously elected you to help, 890

— What men call, loved you : Guido read her mind,
Gave it expression to assure the world
The case was just as he foresaw : he wrote,
She spoke."

Sirs, that first simile serves still, —
That falsehood of a scorpion hatched, I say, 895

Nowhere i' the world but in Madonna's mouth.
Go on! Suppose, that falsehood foiled, next eve
Pictured Madonna raised her painted hand,
Fixed the face Rafael bent above the Babe,
On my face as I flung me at her feet : 900

Such miracle vouchsafed and manifest.
Would that prove the first lying tale was true?
Pompilia spoke, and I at once received.
Accepted my own fact, my miracle

Self-authorized and self-explained, — she chose 905

To summon me and signify her choice.
Afterward, — oh ! I gave a passing glance
To a certain ugly cloud-shape, goblin-shred
Of hell-smoke hurrying past the splendid moon

212 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Out now to tolerate no darkness more, 910

And saw right through the thing that tried to pass

For truth and solid, not an empty lie :

" So, he not only forged the words for her

But words for me, made letters he called mine :

What I sent, he retained, gave these in place, 915

All by the mistress-messenger! As I

Recognized her, at potency of truth,

So she, by the crystalline soul, knew me.

Never mistook the signs. Enough of this —

Let the wraith go to nothingness again, 920

Here is the orb, have only mought for her! "

" Thought ? " nay. Sirs, what shall follow was not thought :

I have thoueht sometimes, and thought longj and hard.

I have stood before, gone round a serious thing,

Tasked my whole mind to touch and clasp it dose, 925

As I stretch forth my arm to touch this bar.

God and man, and what duty I owe both, —

I dare to say I have confronted these

In thought : but no such faculty helped here.

I put forth no thought, — powerless, all that night 930

I paced the city : it was the first Spring.

By the invasion I lay passive to.

In rushed new things, the old were rapt away ;

Alike abolished — the imprisonment

Of the outside air, the inside weight o' the world 935

That pulled me down. Death meant, to spurn the ground.

Soar to the sky, — die well and you do that.

The very immolation made the bliss ;

Death was the heart of life, and all the harm

Mjr folly had crouched to avoid, now proved a veil 940

Hiding all gain my wisdom strove to grasp :

As if the intense centre of the flame

Should turn a heaven to that devoted fly

Which hitherto, sophist alike and sage.

Saint Thomas ^ with his sober gray goose-quill, 945

And sinner Plato by Cephisian ^ reed,

Would fain, pretending just the insect's good,

Whisk off, drive back, consign to shade again.

Into another state, under new rule

I knew myself was passing swift and sure ; 950

Whereof the initiatory pang approached.

Felicitous annoy, as bitter-sweet

As when the virgin-band, the victors chaste,

^ Saint Thomas : Aquino, See oote on • Cephisian reed : the reeds of Cephisusi
1- 4^4* P0« of the rivers of AtbcAS.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL JI13

Feel at the end the earthly garments drop.

And rise with something of a rosy shame 955

Into immortal nakedness : so I

Lay, and let come the proper throe would thrill

Into the ecstasy and outthrob pain.

r the gray of dawn it was I found myself

Facing the pillared front o^ the Pieve — mine, 960

My church : it seemed to say for the first time
'^ But am not I the Bride, the mystic love
O' the Lamb, who took thy plighted troth, my priest,
To fold thy warm heart on my heart of stone
And freeze thee nor unfasten any more ? 965

This is a fleshly woman, — let the free
Bestow their life-blood, thou art pulseless now! "
See! Day by day I had risen and left this church
At the signal waved me by some foolish fan,
With half a curse and half a pitying smile 970

For the monk I stumbled over in my haste,
Prostrate and corpse-like at the altar-foot
Intent on his corona ^ : then the church
Was ready with her quip, if word conduced,
To quicken my pace nor stop for prating — " There! 975

Be thankful you are no such ninny, go
Rather to teach a black-eyed novice cards
Than gabble Latin and protrude that nose
Smoothed to a sheep^s through no brains and much £uth! "
That sort of incentive! Now the church changed tone — 980
Now, when I found out first that life and death
Are means to an end, that passion uses both,
. Indisputably mistress of the man
Whose form of worship is self-sacrifice :

Now, from the stone lungs sighed the scrannel voice 985

" Leave that live passion, come be dead with me! "
As if, i^ the fabled garden,^ I had gone
On great adventure, plucked in ignorance
Hedge-fruit, and feasted to satiety,

Laughing at such high fame for hips and haws, 990

And scorned the achievement .: then come all at once
O' the prize ©' the place, the thing of perfect gold.
The applets self: and, scarce my eye on that.
Was 'ware as well o' the seven-fold dragon's watch.

Sirs, I obeyed. Obedience was too strange, — 995

This new thing that had been struck into me

^ His corona : his rosary. where the folden Bpi^e was guarded by a

* Tht/abled garden : it itit Hetpetides, drafon.

214 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

By the look o' the lady, — to dare disobey

The first authoritative word. 'T was God's.

I had beea lifted to the level of her,

Could take such sounds into my sense. I said looo

" We two are cognisant o' the Master now ;

She it is bids me bow the head : how true,

I am a priest! I see the function here ;

I thought the other way self-sacrifice :

This is the true, seals up the perfect sum. 1005

I pay it, sit down, silently obey." a

So, I went home. Dawn broke, noon broadened, I — \ T^

I sat stone-still, let time run over me.

The sun slanted into my room, had reached

The west. I opened book, — Aquinas blazed loio

With one black name only on the white page.

I looked up, saw the sunset : vespers rang :

" She counts the minutes till I keep my word

And come say all is ready. I am a priest.

Duty to God is duty to her: I think 1015

God, who created her, will save her too

Some new way, by one miracle the more.

Without me. Then, prayer may avail perhaps. **

I went to my own place i' the Pieve, read

The office : I was back at home again 1020

Sitting i' the dark. " Could she but know — but know

That, were there good in this distinct from God's,

Really good as it reached her, though procured

By a sin of mine, — I should sin : God forgives.

She knows it is no fear withholds me : fear? 1025

Of what ? Suspense here is the terrible thing.

If she should, as she counts the minutes, come

On the fantastic notion that I fear

The world now, fear the Archbishop, fear perhaps

Count Guido, he who, having foi|;ea the lies, 1030

May wait the work, attend the effect, — I fear

The sword of Guido! Let God see to that —

Hating lies, let not her believe a lie! "

Again the morning found me. "I will work, ' ^

Tie down my foolish thoughts. Thank God so far! 1035

I have saved her from a scandal, stopped the tongues

Had broken else into a cackle and hiss

Around the noble name. Duty is still

Wisdom : I have been wise." So the day wore.

At evening — " But, achieving victory, 1040

I must not blink the priest's peculiar part.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 215

Nor shrink to counsel, comfort : priest and fHend —

How do we discontinue to be friends ?

I will go minister, advise her seek

Help at the source, — above all, not despair : 1045

There may be other happier help at hand.

I hope it, — wherefore then neglect to say? "

There she stood — leaned there, for the second time, ( (.^ C- ^

Over the terrace, looked at me, then spoke :

" Why is it you have suffered me to stay 1050

Breaking my heart two days more than was need?

Why delay help, your own heart yearns to give ?

You are again here, in the self-same mind,

I see here, steadfast in the face of you, —

You grudge to do no one thing that I ask. 1055

Why then is nothing done? You know my need.

Still, through God's pity on me, there is time

And one day more : shall I be saved or no? "

I answered — " Lady, waste no thought, no word

Even to forgive me! Care for what I care — 1060

Only ! Now follow me as I were fate !

Leave this house in the dark to-morrow night.

Just before daybreak : — there 's new moon this eve —

It sets, and then begins the solid black.

Descend, proceed to the Torrione, step 1065

Over the low dilapidated wall.

Take San Clemente, there 's no other gate

Unguarded at the hour : some paces thence

An inn stands ; cross to it : I shall be there. ^'

She answered, " If I can but find the way. 1070

But I shall find it. Go now!"

I did go, '
Took rapidly the route myself prescribed,
Stopped at Torrione, climbed the ruined place,
Proved that the gate was practicable, reached
The inn, no eye, despite the dark, could miss, 1075

Knocked there and entered, made the host secure :
^^ With Caponsacchi it is ask and have ;
I know my betters. Are you bound for Rome?
I get swift horse and trusty man,'' said he.

Then I retraced my steps, was found once more 1080

In my own house for the last time : there lay
The broad paJe opened Summa. *^ Shut his book,
There 's other showing! 'T was a Thomas too
Obtainedi — more favored than his namesake here, —

2i6 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

A gift, tied foith ^t, foiled the tug of doubt^ -^ 1085

Our Lady's girdle ; ^ down he saw it drop
As she ascended into heaven, they say :
He kept that safe and bade all doubt adieu.
I too have seen a lady and hold a grace.^'

I know not how the night passed : morning broke ; ^^^^090

Presently came my servant. " Sir, this eve —

Do you forget ? " I started. " How forget ?

What is it you know? " " With due submission, Sir

This bein^ last Monday in the month but one

And a vigil, since to-morrow is Saint George, 1095

And feast day, and moreover day for copes,

And Canon Conti now away a month.

And Canon Crispi sour because, forsooth.

You let him sulk in stall and bear the brunt

Of the octave . . . Well, Sir, 't is important!"

"True! iioo
Hearken, I have to start for Rome this night.
No word, lest Crispi overboil and burst \
Provide me with a laic dress! Throw dust
r the Canon's eye, stop his tongue's scandal so !
See there 's a sword in case of accident." 1 105

I knew the knave, the knave knew me. 1

And thus \ \ '^^ '"^
Through each familiar hindrance of the day
Did I make steadily for its hour and end, —
Felt time's old barrier-growth of right and fit
Give way through all its twines, and let me %o. mo

Use and wont recognized the excepted man.
Let speed the special service, — and I sped
Till, at the dead between midnight and mom,
There was I at the goal, before the gate.
With a tune in the ears, low leading up to loud, 1 1 15

A light in the eyes, faint that would soon be flare,
Ever some spiritual witness new and new
In faster frequence, crowding solitude
To watch the way o' the warfare, — till, at last,
When the ecstatic minute must bring birth, 11 20

Began a whiteness in the distance, waxed
Whiter and whiter, near grew and more near.
Till it was she : there did Pompilia come :
The white I saw shine through her was her soul's.
Certainly, for the body was one black, 1125

Black from head down to foot. She did not speak,

^ Our Lady's girdle : according to the loosened her girdle, which fell into the hands
tradition, the Virgin, on her ascent to heayen, of the doubting apostle, St. Thonnas.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 217

Glided into the carriage, — so a cloud

Gathers the moon up. " By San Spirito,

To Rome, as if the road burned underneath!

Reach Rome, then hold my head in pledge, I pay 1 130

The run and the risk to heart's content! " Just that

I said, — then, in another tick of time.

Sprang, was beside her, she and I alone.

So it began, our flight thro' dusk to clear, [V S

Through day and night and day again to night 1135

Once more, and to last dreadful dawn of all.

Sirs, how should I lie quiet in my grave

Unless you suffer me wring, drop by drop,

My brain dry, make a riddance of the drench

Of minutes with a memory in each, 1 140

Recorded motion, breath or look of hers,

Which poured forth would present you one pure glass,

Mirror you plain, — as God's sea,^ glassed in gold.

His saints, — the perfect soul Pompilia? Men,

You must know that a man sets drunk with truth 1x45

Stagnant inside him! Oh, they've killed her, Sirs!

Can I be calm ?

Calmly! Each incident
Proves, I maintain, that action of the flight
For the true thing it was. The first faint scratch
O' the stone will test its nature, teach its worth 11 50

To idiots who name Parian ^ — coprolite.*
After all, I shall give no glare — at best
Only display you certain scattered lights
Lamping the rush and roll of the abyss :
Nothing but here and there a fire-point pricks 11 55

Wavelet from wavelet : well!

For the first hour
We both were silent in the night, I know :
Sometimes I did not see nor understand.
Blackness engulphed me, — partial stupor, say —
Then I would break way, breathe through the surprise, 11 60
And be aware again, and see who sat
In the dark vest with the white face and hands.
I said to myself — " I have caught it, I conceive
The mind o' the mystery : 't is the way they wake
And wait, two martyrs somewhere in a tomb 11 65

Each by each as their blessing was to die ;
Some signal they are promisea and expect, —
When to arise before the trumpet scares :

» Go^t tea : Rerelation, iv. 6. • Coprolite : p«tri6^ dung of ctrniyo-

* Parian : pure marble from Paros. rous reptiiet.

2i8 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

So, through the whole course of the world they wait

The last day, but so fearless and so safe! 1170

No otherwise, in safety and not fear,

I lie, because she lies too by my side."

You know this is not love. Sirs, — it is faith.

The feeling that there 's God, he reigns and rules

Out of this low world : that is all ; no harm ! 1 175

At times she drew a soft sigh — music seemed

Always to hover just above her lips,

Not settle, — break a silence music too.

In the determined morning, I first found ' \ "'. I

Her head erect, her face turned fiill to me, 1180

Her soul intent on mine through two wide eyes.

I answered them. " You are saved hitherto.

We have passed Perugia, — gone round by the wood,

Not through, I seem to think, — and opposite

I know Assisi ; this is holy ground." * 1185

Then she resumed. " How long since we both left

Arezzo ? " " Years — and certain hours beside."

It was at ... ah, but I forget the names ! ^

'T is a mere post-house and a hovel or two ;

I left the carriage and got bread and wine f 1^

And brought it Tier. " Does it detain to eat? "

"They stay perforce, change horses, — therefore eat!

We lose no minute : we arrive, be sure! "

This was — I know not where — there 's a great hill

Close over, and the stream has lost its bridge, H95

One fords it. She began — "I have heard say

Of some sick body that my mother knew,

^ was no good sign when in a limb diseased

All the pain suddenly departs, — as if

The guardian angel discontinued pain 1200

Because the hope of cure was gone at last :

The limb will not again exert itself,

It needs be pained no longer : so with me,

— My soul whence all the pain is past at once :

All pain must be to work some good in the end. r205

True, this I feel now, this may 1^ that good,

Pain was because of, — otherwise, I fear!"

She said, — a long while later in the day.

When I had let the silence be, — abrupt —

" Have you a mother? " " She died, I was born." 12 10

^ Assist . . . holy ground : because St. order of Franciscan monks and the mODMteiy
Francis was born there in zxSa, founder of the of St. Francis.

GIUSEPPE CAPOATSACCHL 219

" A sister then ? " " No sister." " Who was it —

What woman were you used to serve this way,

Be kind to, till I called you and you came ? "

I did not like that word. Soon afterward —

^ Tell me, are men unhappy, in some kind 12 15

Of mere unhappiness at being men.

As women suffer, being womanish ?

Have you, now, some unhappiness, I mean.

Bom of what may be man^s strength overmuch.

To match the undue susceptibility, 1220

The sense at every pore when hate is close?

It hurts us if a baby hides its face

Or child strikes at us punily, calls names

Or makes a mouth, — much more if stranger men

Laugh or frown, — just as that were much to bear! 1225

Yet rocks split, — and the blow-ball does no more,

Quivers to feathery nothing at a touch ;

And strength may have its drawback weakness scapes."

Once she asked " What is it that made you smile.

At the great gate with the eagles and the snakes, 1230

Where the company entered, 'tis a long time since?"

" — Forgive — I think you would not understand:

Ah, but you ask me, — therefore, it was this.

That was a certain bishop's villa-gate,

I knew it by the eagles, — and at once 1235

Remembered this same bishop was just he

People of old were wont to bid me please

If I would catch preferment : so, I smiled

Because an impulse came to me, a whim —

What if I prayed the prelate leave to speak, 1240

Began upon him in his presence-hall

— * What, still at work so gray and obsolete ?

Still rocheted and mitred more or less ?

Don't you feel all that out of fashion now ?

I find out when the day of things is done! * " 1245

At eve we heard the angelus:'^ she turned — '

" I told you I can neither read nor write.

My life stopped with the play-time ; I will learn.

If I begin to live again : but you —

Who are a priest — wherefore do you not read 1250

The service at this hour? Read Gabriel's song.

The lesson, and then read the little prayer

To Raphael, proper for us travellers ! "

I did not like that, neither, but I read.

^ The angelus : the brief service said at consisting of the Ave^ or " Hail, Mary," etc.,
the toll of the bell, at mom, noon, and night, with versicle response and a collect

220 THE RmG AI^D THE BOOK.

When we stopped at Foligno it was dark. 1255

The people of the post came out with lights :

The driver said, " This time to-morrow, may

Saints only help, relays continue good,

Nor robbers hinder, we arrive at Rome."

I urged, << Why tax your strength a second night? 1260

Trust me, alight here and take brief repose!

We are out o? harm^s reach, past pursuit : go sleep

If but an hour! I keep watch, guard the while

Here in the doorway." But her whole face changed^

The misery grew again about her mouth, 1265

The eyes burned up from faintness, like the fawn's

Tired to death in the thicket, when she feels

The probing spear o' the huntsman. " Oh, no stay I "

She cried, in the fawn's cry, " On to Rome, on, on —

Unless 't is you who fear, — which cannot be! " 1270

We did go on all night ; but at its close I *^ [

She was troubled, restless, moaned low, talked at whiles

To herself, her brow on quiver with the dream :

Once, wide awake, she menaced, at arms' length

Waved away something — " Never again with you ! 1275

My soul is mine, my body is my soul's :

You and I are divided ever more

In soul and body : get you gone ! " Then I —

"Why, in my whole life I have never prayed!

Oh, if the God, that only can, would help! 1280

Am I his priest with power to cast out fiends ?

Let God arise and all his enemies

Be scattered ! " By morn there was peace, no sigh

Out of the deep sleep.

When she woke at last, <
I answered the first look — " Scarce twelve hours more, 1285
Then, Rome ! There probably was no pursuit,
There cannot now be peril : bear up brave!
Just some twelve hours to press through to the prize :
Then, no more of the terrible journey ! " " Then,
No more o' the journey : if it might out last! 1290

Always, my life-long, thus to journey still !
It is the interruption that I dread, —
With no dread, ever to be here and thus!
Never to see a face nor hear a voice!

Yours is no voice ; you speak when you are dumb ; 1295

Nor face, I see it in the dark. I want
No face nor voice that change and grow unkind."
That I liked, that was the best thing she said.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHt. aai

In the broad day, I dared entreat, "Descend! " ^ ' '

I told a woman, at the garden-sate 1300

By the post-house, white and pleasant in the sun,

" It is my sister, — talk with* her apart!

She is married and unhappy, you perceive ;

I take her home because her head is hurt ;

Comfort her as you women understand ! " 1305

So, there I left them by the garden-wall,

Paced the road, then bade put the horses to,

Came back, and there she sat : close to her knee,

A black-eyed child still held the bowl of milk,

Wondered to see how little she could drink, 13 10

And in her arms the woman^s infant lay.

She smiled at me " How much eood this has done!

This is a whole night^s rest and how much more!

I can proceed now, though I wish to stay.

How do you call that tree with the thick top 13 15

That holds in all its leafy green and eold

The sun now like an immense egg of fire? ^*

(It was a million-leaved mimosa.) " Take

The babe away from me and let me go! *^

And in the carri^e " Still a day, my friend! 1320

And perhaps half a night, the woman fears.

I pray it finish since it cannot last

There may be more misfortune at the close,

And where will you be? God suffice me then! "

And presently — for there was a roadside-shrine — 1325

" When I was taken first to my own church

Lorenzo in Lucina, being a girl.

And bid confess my £^ults, I interposed

' But teach me what fault to confess and know! '

So, the priest said — * You should bethink yourself: 1330

Each human bein^ needs must have done wrong! *

Now, be you candid and no priest but friend —

Were I surprised and killed here on the spot,

A runaway from husband and his home.

Do you account it were in sin I died? 1335

My husband used to seem to harm me, not . . .

Not on pretence he punished sin of mine.

Nor for sin's sake and lust of cruelty.

But as I heard him bid a farming-roan

At the villa take a lamb once to the wood 1340

And there ill-treat it, meaning that the wolf

Should hear its cries, and so come, quick be caught,

Enticed to the trap : he practised thus with me

That so, whatever were his gain thereby,

Others than I might become prey and spoil. 1345

Had it been only between our two selves, —

222 THE RING AND THE BOOft.

His pleasure and my pain, — why, pleasure him

By dying, nor such need to make a coil!

But this was worth an effort, that my pain

Should not become a snare, prove pain threefold 1350

To other people — strangers — or unborn —

How should I know? I sought release from that*

I think, or else from, — dare I say, some cause

Such as is put into a tree, which turns

Away from the north wind with what nest it holds, — 1355

The woman said that trees so turn : now, friend,

Tell me, because I cannot trust myself !

You are a man : what have I done amiss ? '^

You must conceive my answer, — I forget —

Taken up wholly with the thought, perhaps, 1360

This time she might have said, — might, did not say —

" You are a priest." She said, " my friend."

Day wore.
We passed the places, somehow the calm went,
Agam the restless eyes began to rove

In new fear of the foe mine could not see. 1365

She wandered in her mind, — addressed me once
" Gaetano ! " — that is not my name : whose name ? ^
I grew alarmed, my head seemed turning too.
I quickened pace with promise now, now threat :
Bade drive and drive, nor any stopping more. 1370

"Too deep i' the thick of the struggle, struggle through!
Then drench her in repose though death^s self pour
The plenitude of quiet, — help us, God,
Whom the winds carry!" n 0 ^

Suddenly I saw I > 1
The old tower, and the little white-walled clump 1375

Of buildings and the cypress-tree or two, —
" Already Castelnuovo — Rome! " I cried,
"As ^ood as Rome, — Rome is the next stage, think!
This IS where travellers' hearts are wont to beat.
Say you are saved, sweet lady! " Up she woke. 1380

The sky was fierce with color from the sun
Setting. She screamed out " No, I must not die!
Take me no farther, I should die : stay here!
I have more life to save than mine! "

She swooned.
We seemed safe : what was it foreboded so? 1385

Out of the coach into the inn I bore
The motionless and breathless pure and pale
Pompilia, — bore her through a pitying group
And laid her on a couch, still calm and cured

> Gaetano . . . whose name : see Book VII. xox.

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHT. 223

By deep sleep of all woes at once. The host 1390

was urgent " Let her stay an hour or two !
Leave her to us, all will be right by morn! "
Oh, my foreboding! But I could not choose.

I paced the passage, kept watch all night long. / "^ '
I listened, — not one movement, not one si^h. 1395

" Fear not : she sleeps so sound! " they saia : but I
Feared, all the same, kept fearing more and more.
Found myself throb with fear from head to foot,
Filled wim a sense of such impending woe.

That, at first pause of night, pretence of gray, 1400

I made my mind up it was mom. — << Reach Rome,
Lest hell reach her! A dozen miles to make.
Another long breath, and we emerge! ^* I stood
r the court-yard, roused the sleepy grooms. " Have out
Carriage and horse, give haste, take eold!^^ said L 1405

While they made ready in the doubtml morn, —
T was the last minute, — needs must I ascend «v /

And break her sleep ; I turned to go. ?^^

And there ^ " / \
Faced me Count Guido, there posed the mean man ^
As master, — took the field, encamped his rights, 1410

Challenged the world : there leered new triumph, there
Scowled the old malice in the visage bad
And black o^ the scamp. Soon triumph suppled the tongue
A little, malice glued to his dry throat,

And he part howled, part hissed ... oh, how he kept 141 j

Well out o' the way, at arm's length and to spare! —
" My salutation to your priestship! What ?
Matutinal, busy with book so soon
Of an April day that 's damp as tears that now
Deluge Arezzo at its darling's flight? — 1420

rr is unfair, wrongs feminity at large.
To let a single dame monopolize
A heart the whole sex claims, should share alike :
Therefore I overtake you. Canon! Come!

The lady, — could you leave her side so soon ? 1425

You have not yet experienced at her hands
My treatment, you lay down undrugged, I see !
Hence this alertness — hence no death-in-life
Like what held arms £ast when she stole from mine.
To be sure, you took the solace and repose 1430

That first night at Foligno! — news abound
O' the road by this time, — men regaled me much,
As past them I came halting after you,

224 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Vulcan pursuing Mars,^ as poets sing, —

Still at the last nere pant I, but arrive, 1435

Vulcan — and not without my Cyclops too,

The Commissary and the unpoisoned arm

O' the Civil Force, should Mars turn mutineer.

Enough of fooling : capture the culprits, friend!

Here is the lover m the smart disguise 1440

With the sword, — he is a priest, so mine lies stiU.

There upstairs hides my wife the runaway.

His leman : the two plotted, poisoned first,

Plundered me after, and eloped thus far

Where now you find them. Do your duty quick! 1445

Arrest and hold him! That ^s done : now catch her! ^

During this speech of that man, — well, I stood

Away, as he managed, — still, I stood as near

The throat of him, with these two hands, my own, —

As now I stand near vours. Sir, — one quick spring, 1450

One great good satisfying gripe, and lo !

There had ne lain abolished with his lie.

Creation purged o^ the miscreate, man redeemed,

A spittle wiped off from the face of God!

I, in some measure, seek a poor excuse 1455

For what I left undone, in just this fact

That my first feeling at the speech I quote

Was — not of what a blasphemy was dared,

Not what a bag of venomed purulence

Was split and noisome, — but how splendidly 1460

Mirthful, how ludicrous a lie was launched !

Would Moli^re^s ^ self wish more than hear such man

Call, claim such woman for his own, his wife

Even though, in due amazement at the boast,

He had stammered, she moreover was divine? 1465

She to be his, — were hardly less absurd

Than that he took her name into his mouth.

Licked, and then let it go again, the beast,

Signed with his slaver. Oh, she poisoned him.

Plundered him, and the rest! Well, what I wished 1470

Was, that he would but go on, say once more

So to the world, and get his meed of men.

The fist's reply to the filth. And while I mused.

The minute, oh the misery, was gone!

On either idle hand of me there stood 1475

Really an officer, nor laughed i' the least :

* Vulcan pursuing Mars : the story of Juan," wherein Moliftre (1622-1673) makes
Vulcan's discovering the love of Venus and the libertine husband claim Doima Elvire,
Mars, already referred to by Guido. the nun, as his wife.

* Moliire's : an allusion to the play " Don

GIUSEPPE CAPOJ^SACCHL M|

Nay, rendered justice to his reason, laid
L^c to heart, as ^t were submitted them
^ Twice two makes four."

''And now, catch her! " he cried.
That sobered me. ''Let myself lead the way— 1480

Ere you arrest me, who am somebody,
Being, as vou hear, a priest and privileged, —
To the lady's chamber! I presume you — men
Expert, instructed how to find out truth.

Familiar with the guise of guilt. Detect 1485

Guilt on her face when it meets mine, then judge
Between us and the mad dog howling there! "
Up we all went together, in they broke
O' the chamber late ray chapel. There she lay,
Composed as when I laid her, that last eve, 1490

O' the couch, still breathless, motionless, sleep's self.
Wax-white, seraphic, saturate with the sun
O' the morning that now flooded from the front
And filled the window with a light like blood.
*' Behold the poisoner, the adulteress, 1495

— And feigning sleep too! Seize, bind! " Guido hissed.

#-

She started up, stood erect, face to face ' '"^

With the husband : back he fell, was buttressed there

By the window all a-flame with morning-red,

He the black figure, the opprobrious bmr 1500

Against all peace and joy and light and life.

" Away from between me and hell! " she cried :

" Hell for me, no embracing any more!

I am God's, I love God, God — whose knees I clasp,

Whose utterly most just award I take, 1505

But bear no more love-making devils : hence! "

I may have made an effort to reach her side

From where I stood i' the door-way, — anyhow

I found the arms, I wanted, pinioned fast.

Was powerless in the clutch to left and right 15 10

O' the rabble pouring in, rascality

Enlisted, rampant on the side of'^hearth

Home and the husband, — pay in prospect too!

They heaped themselves upon me. " Ha! — and him

Also you outrage? Him, too, my sole friend, 15 15

Guardian and saviour? That I baulk you o^

Since — see how God can help at last and worst! "

She sprang at the sword that hung beside him, seized.

Drew, brandished it, the sunrise burned for joy

O' the blade, " Die," cried she, " devil, in God's name! " 1520

Ah, but they all closed round her, twelve to one

— The unmanly men, no woman-mother made,

226 THE RmG AJ^D THE BOOK,

Spawned somehow ! Dead-white and disarmed she lay.

No matter for the sword, her word sufficed

To spike the coward through and through : he shook, 1525

Could only spit between the teeth — " You see ?

You hear? Bear witness, then! Write down . . . but no —

Carry these criminals to the prison-house.

For first thing! I begin my search meanwhile

After the stolen effects, gold, jewels, plate, 1530

Money and clothes, they robbed me of and fled,

With no few amorous pieces, verse and prose,

I have much reason to expect to find.^*

> ■*-;

When I saw that — no more than the first mad speech, ^ "^

Made out the speaker mad and a laughing-stock, 1535

So neither did this next device explode

One listener's indignation, — that a scribe

Did sit down, set himself to write indeed.

While sundry knaves began to peer and pry

In corner and hole, — that Guido, wiping brow 1540

And getting him a countenance, was fast

Losing his fear, beginning to strut free

O' the stage of his exploit, snuff here, sniff there, —

Then I took truth in, guessed sufficiently

The service for the moment. "What I say, 1545

Slight at your peril ! We are aliens here.

My adversary and I, called noble both ;

I am the nobler, and a name men know.

I could refer our cause to our own Court

In our own country, but prefer appeal I55<>

To the nearer jurisdiction. Being a priest,

Though in a secular garb, — for reasons good

I shall adduce in due time to my peers, —

I demand that the Church I serve, decide

Between us, right the slandered lady there. 1555

A Tuscan noble, I might claim the Duke :

A priest, I rather choose the Church, — bid Rome

Cover the wronged with her inviolate shield."

There was no refiising this : they bore me off,

They bore her off, to separate cells o' the same 1560

Ignoble prison, and, separate, thence to Rome.

Pompilia's face, then and thus, looked on me

The last time in this life : not one sight since.

Never another sight to be! And yet

I thought I had saved her. I appealed to Rome; 1565

It seems I simply sent her to her death.

You tell me she is dying now, or dead ;

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI, 227

I cannot bring m3rself to quite believe

This is a place you torture people in :

What if this your intelligence were just 1570

A subtlety, an honest wile to work

On a man at unawares ? 'T were worthy you.

No, Sirs, I cannot have the lady dead!

That erect form, flashing brow, fulgurant eye,

That voice immortal (oh, that voice of hers!) 1575

That vision in the blood-red daybreak — that

Leap to life of the pale electric sword

Angels go armed with, — that was not the last

O' the lady! Come, I see through it, you find —

Know the manoeuvre! Also herself said 1580

I had saved her : do you dare say she spoke false?

Let me see for myself if it be so!

Though she were dying, a Priest might be of use.

The more when he 's a friend too, — she called me

Far beyond "friend." Come, let me see her — indeed 1585

It is my duty, being a priest : I hope

I stand confessed, established, proved a priest?

My punishment had motive that, a priest

I, in a laic garb, a mundane mode.

Did what were harmlessly done otherwise. 1590

I never touched her with my finger-tip

Except to carry her to the couch, that eve,

Against my heart, beneath my head, bowed low,

As we priests carry the paten : ^ that is why

— To get leave and go see her of your grace — 1595

I have told you this whole story over again.

Do I deserve grace ? For I might lock hps.

Laugh at your jurisdiction : what have you

To do with me in the matter? I suppose

You hardly think I donned a bravo's dress 1600

To have a hand in the new crime ; on the old,

Judgment 's delivered, penalty imposed,

I was chained ^t at Civita hand and foot —

She had only you to trust to, you and Rome,

Rome and the Church, and no pert meddling priest 1605

Two days ago, when Guido, with the right,

Hacked her to pieces. One might well be wroth ;

I have been patient, done my best to help :

I come from Civita and punishment

As friend of the Court — and for pure friendship's sake 1610

Have told my tale to the end, — nay, not the end —

For, wait — I '11 end — not leave you that excuse!

< The pattn : the plate pr chalice on which the sficred bread of the communion service
if carriei}.

228 THE RING AND TttB BOOK.

When we were parted, — shall I go on there?
I was presently Drought to Rome — yes, here I stood
Opposite yonder very crucifix — 1615

And there sat you and you. Sirs, quite the same.
I heard charge, and bore question, and told tale
Noted down in the book there, — turn and see
If, by one jot or tittle, I vary now!

r the color the tale takes, there ^s change perhaps ; 1620

'T is natural, since the sky is different.
Eclipse in the air now ; still, the outline stays.
I showed you how it came to be my part
To save the lady. Then your clerk produced
Papers, a pack of stupid and impure 1625

Banalities called letters about love —
Love, indeed, — I could teach who styled them so,
Better, I think, though priest and loveless both!
" — How was it that a wife, young, innocent.
And stranger to your person, wrote this page? " — 1630

" — She wrote it when the Holy Father wrote
The bestiality that posts thro' Rome,
Put in his mouth by Pasquin." ^ " Nor perhaps
Did you return these answers, verse and prose.
Signed, sealed and sent the lady ? There 's your hand! " 1635
** — This precious piece of verse, I really judge,
Is meant to copy my own character,
A clumsy mimic ; and this other prose.
Not so much even ; both rank forgery :

Verse, quotha? Bembo's^ verse! When Saint John wrote 1640
The tract ^De Tribus^^ I wrote this to match."
. " — How came it, then, the documents were found
At the inn on your departure ? " — "I opine.
Because there were no documents to find

In my presence, — you must hide before you find. 1645

Who forged them hardlv practised in my view ;
Who found them waited till I turned my back."
" — And what of the clandestine visits paid.
Nocturnal passage in and out the house

With its lord absent? 'T is alleged you climbed . . ." 1650
" — Flew on a broomstick to the man i' the moon!
Who witnessed or will testify this trash ? "
" — The trusty servant, Margherita's self,
Even she who brought you letters, you confess,

* Pasquin : the name given to a statue in * De Tribus : the blasphemous and legen-

Rome (from Pasquino, a cobbler, whose shop dary tract " De Tribus Impostoribus " (Moses,

opposite to it was a centre of gossip) on Mahomet, and Christ), often referred to in

which anonymous squibs were posted. the Middle Ages. (For an account of this

' Btmbo : secretary to Pope Leo X., and curious tradition of a non-existent or secret

a well-known man of letters (1470-1547). work see " Poet-lore," Vol. VI. p. 248.)

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHT. 229

And, you confess, took letters in reply : 1655

Forget not we have knowledge of the facts ! ^*

" — Su^, who have knowledge of the fects, defray

The expenditure of wit I waste in vain,

Trying to find out just one £ict of all !

She who brought letters from who could not write, 1660

And took back letters to who could not read, —

Who was that messenger, of your charity ? ^^

" — Well, so for favors you the circumstance

That this same messenger . . . how shall we say ? • • .

Sub imputatione meretricis 1665

Laborat}- — which makes accusation null :

We waive this woman^s : naught makes void the next

Borsi, called Venerino, he who drove,

O^ the first night when you fled away, at length

Deposes to your kissings in the coach, 1670

— Frequent, frenetic . . ." "When deposed he so?"

" After some weeks of sharp imprisonment . . ."

" — Granted by friend the Governor, I engage — "

" — For his participation in your flight !

At length his obduracy melting made 1675

The avowal mentioned. . . ." " Was dismissed forthwith

To liberty, poor knave, for recompense.

Sirs, give what credit to the lie you can!

For me, no word in my defence I speak,

And God shall argue for the lady ! "

So 1680

Did I stand question, and make answer, still
With the same result of smiling disbelief,
Polite impossibility of faith

In such affected virtue in a priest ; '

But a showing fair play, an indulgence, even, 1685

To one no worse than others after all —
Who had not brought disgrace to the order, played
Discreetly, ruffled gown nor ripped the cloth
In a bungling game at romps : I have told you, Sirs —
If I pretended simply to be pure, 1690

Honest and Christian in the case, — absurd!
As well go boast myself above the needs
O^ the human nature, careless how meat smells.
Wine tastes, — a saint above the smack! But once
Abate my crest, own flaws i- the flesh, agree 1695

To go with the herd, be hog no more nor less.
Why, hogs in common herd have common rights :
I must not be unduly borne upon.
Who just romanced a little, sowed wild oats,

^ Sub imputationt mtrttricis lahorai : " labors under the imputation of unchaitior*"

230 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

But ^scaped without a scandal, flagrant fault. 1700

My name helped to a mirthful circumstance :
** Joseph " would do well to amend his plea :
Undoubtedly — some toying with the wife,
But as for ruffian violence and rape,

Potiphar ^ pressed too much on the other side I 1705

The intrigue, the elopement, the disguise, — well charged!
The letters and verse looked hardly like the truth.
Your apprehension was — of guilt enough
To be compatible with innocence.

So, punished best a little and not too much. 17 10

Had I struck Guido Franceschini's face,
You had counselled me withdraw for my own sake,
Baulk him of bravo-hiring. Friends came round,
. Congratulated, "Nobody mistakes!
The pettiness o' the forfeiture defines 171 5

The peccadillo : Guido gets his share :
His wife is free of husband and hook-nose,
The mouldy viands and the mother-in-law.
To Civita with you and amuse the time,

Travesty us ^De Raptu Helena ! ' ^ 1720

A funny figure must the husband cut
When the wife makes him skip, — too ticklish, eh?
Do it in Latin, not the Vulgar, then !
Scazons^ — we '11 copy and send his Eminence.
Mind — one iambus in the final foot! 1725

He 11 rectify it, be your friend for life! "
Oh, Sirs, depend on me for much new light
Thrown on the justice and religion here
By this proceeding, much fresh food for thought!

And I was just set down to study these ^ ' 1730

In relegation, two short days ago.

Admiring how you read the rules, when, clap,

A thunder comes into my solitude —

I am caught up in a whirlwind and cast here,

Told of a sudden, in this room where so late 1735

You dealt out law adroitly, that those scales,

I meekly bowed to, took my allotment from,

Guido has snatched at, broken in your hands.

Metes to himself the murder of his wife,

Full measure, pressed down, running over now! 1740

Can I assist to an explanation ? — Yes,

I rise in your esteem, sagacious Sirs,

^ Potiphar : Genesis xxxix. lo. * Scazons : iambic verses, with a spondee

' De Raptu Helena : of the carrying off in the final foot instead of an iambus,
^f Helen of Troy.

GIUSEPPE CAPOATSACcm. ijt

Stand up a renderer of reasons, not

The officious priest would personate Saint George

For a mock Princess in undragoned days. 1745

What, the blood startles you? What, after all

The priest who needs must carry sword on thigh

May find imperative use for it ? Then, there was

A Princess, was a dragon belching flame,

And should have been a Saint George also? Then, 1750

There might be worse schemes than to break the bonds

At Arezzo, lead her by the little hand,

Till she reached Rome, and let her try to live ?

But you were law and gospel, — would one please

Stand back, allow your faculty elbow-room? 1755

You blind ^ides who must needs lead eyes that see!

Fools, alike ignorant of man and God!

What was there here should have perplexed your wit

For a wink of the owl-eyes of you ? How miss, then,

What 's now forced on you by this flare of fact — 1760

As if Saint Peter failed to recognize

Nero as no apostle, John or James,

Till some one burned a martyr, made a torcli

O' the blood and fat to show his features by!

Could you fail read this cartulary arieht 1765

On head and front of Franceschini there.

Large-lettered like hell's masterpiece of print, —

That he, from the beeinning pricked at heart

Bv some lust, letch of hate against his wife,

Plotted to plague her into overt sin 1770

And shame, would slay Pompilia body and soul,

And save his mean sen — miserably caught

r the quagmire of his own tricks, cheats and lies?

— That himself wrote those papers, — from himself

To himself, — which, i' the name of me and her, 1775

His mistress-messenger gave lier and me,

Touching us with such pustules of the soul

That she and I might take the taint, be shown

To the world and shuddered over, speckled so?

— That the agent put her sense into my words, 1780

Made substitution of the thing she hoped,

For the thing she had and held, its opposite.

While the husband in the back^ound bit his lips

At each fresh failure of his precious plot ?

— That when at the last we did rush each on each, 1785

By no chance but because God willed it so —

The spark of truth was struck from out our souls —

Made all of me, descried in the first glance,

Seem fair and honest and permissible love

O' the good and true — as the first glance told me 179P

ip The h/atg aatd the book.

There was no duty patent in the world

Like daring try be good and true myself,

Leaving the shows of things to the Lord of Show

And Prince o' the Power of the Air. Our very flight.

Even to its most ambiguous circumstance, 1795

Irrefragably proved how futile, false . . .

Why, men — men and not boys — boys and not babes —

Babes and not beasts — beasts and not stocks and stones! —

Had the liar^s lie been true one pin-point speck,

Were I the accepted suitor, free o' the place, 1800

Disposer of the time, to come at a call

And go at a wink as who should say me nay, —

What need of flight, what were the gain therefrom

But just damnation, failure or success?

Damnation pure and simple to her the wife 1805

And me the priest — who bartered private bliss

For public reprobation, the safe shade

For the sunshine which men see to pelt me by :

What other advantage, — we who led the days

And nights alone i' the house, — was flight to find? 18 10

In our whole journey did we stop an hour.

Diverge a foot from straight road till we reached

Or would have reached — but for that fate of ours —

The father and mother, in the eye of Rome,

The eye of yourselves we made aware of us 181 5

At the first fall of misfortune ? And indeed

You did so far give sanction to our flight.

Confirm its purpose, as lend helping hand,

Deliver up Pompilia not to him

She fled, but those the flight was ventured for. 1820

Why then could you, who stopped short, not go on

One poor step more, and justify the means.

Having allowed the end? — not see and say

" Here 's the exceptional conduct that should claim

To be exceptionally judged on rules 1825

Which, understood, make no exception here"—

Why play instead into the devil's hands

By dealing so ambiguously as ^ve

Guido the power to intervene like me.

Prove one exception more? I saved his wife 1 830

Against law : against law he slays her now :

Deal with him !

I have done with being judged.
I stand here guiltless in thought, word and deed.
To the point that I apprise you, — in contempt
For all misapprehending ignorance 1835

O' the human heart, much more the mind of Christ,—

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI. 233

That I assuredly did bow, was blessed

By the revelation of Pompilia. There!

Such is the final fact I flin^ you. Sirs,

To mouth and mumble and misinterpret : there! 1840

"The priest's in love," have it the vulgar way!

Unpriest me, rend the raes o' the vestment, do —

Degrade deep, disenfranchise all you dare —

Remove me from the midst, no longer priest

And fit companion for the like of you — 184^

Your gay Abati with the well-turned leg

And rose i' the hat-rim, Canons, cross at neck

And silk mask in the pocket of the gown,

Brisk Bishops with the world's musk still unbrushed

From the rochet ; I '11 no more of these good things : 1850

There 's a crack somewhere, something that 's unsound

r the rattle!

For Pompilia — be advised.
Build churches, go pray! You will find me there,
I know, if you come, — and you will come, I know.
Why, there's a Judge weeping! Did not I say 1855

You were good and true at bottom ? You see the truth —
I am glad I helped you : she helped me just so.

/■♦

But for Count Guido, — you must counsel there! ' •

I bow my head, bend to the very dust.

Break myself up in shame of faultiness. i860

I had him one whole moment, as I said —

As I remember, as will never out

O' the thoughts of me, — I had him in arm's reach

There, — as you stand, Sir, now you cease to sit, —

I could have killed him ere he killed his wife, 1865

And did not : he went off alive and well

And then effected this last feat — through me!

Me — not through you — dismiss that fear! 'T was you

Hindered me staying here to save her, — not

From leaving you and going back to him 1870

And doing service in Arezzo. Come,

Instruct me in procedure! I conceive —

In all due self-abasement might I speak —

How you will deal with Guido : oh, not death!

Death, if it let her life be : otherwise 1875

Not death, — your lights will teach you clearer! I

Certainly have an instinct of my own

I' the matter : bear with me and weigh its worth !

Let us go away — leave Guido all alone

Back on the world again that knows him now! 1880

I think he will be found (indulge so far!)

Not to die so much as slide out of life,

234 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Pushed by the general horror and common hate

Low, lower, — left o' the very ledge of things,

I seem to see him catch convulsively 1885

One by one at all honest forms of life.

At reason, order, decency and use —

To cramp him and get foothold by at least ;

And still they disengage them from his clutch.

"What, are you he, then, had Pompilia once 1890

And so forewent her? Take not up with us!"

And thus I see him slowly and surely edged

Off all the table-land whence life upsprings

Aspiring to be immortality.

As the snake, hatched on hill-top by mischance, 1895

Despite his wriggling, slips, slides, slidders down

Hill-side, lies low and prostrate on the smooth

Level of the outer place, lapsed in the vale :

So I lose Guido in the loneliness.

Silence and dusk, till at the doleful end, 1900

At the horizontal line, creation's verge,

From what just is to absolute nothingness —

Whom is it, straining onward still, he meets?

What other man deep further in the fate,

Who, turning at the prize of a footfall 1905

To flatter him and promise fellowship.

Discovers in the act a frightful face —

Judas, made monstrous by much solitude!

The two are at one now I Let them love their love

That bites and claws like hate, or hate their hate 1910

That mops and mows and makes as it were love'

There, let them each tear each in deviPs-fun,

Or fondle this the other while malice aches —

Both teach, both learn detestability!

Kiss him the kiss, Iscariot! Pay that back, 1915

That smatch o' the slaver blistering on your lip,

By the better trick, the insult he spared Christ —

Lure him the lure o' the letters, Aretine!

Lick him o'er slimy-smooth with jelly-filth

O' the verse-and-prose pollution in love's guise! 1920

The cockatrice is with the basilisk !

There let them grapple, denizens o' the dark,

Foes or friends, but indissolubly bound,

In their one spot out of the ken of God

Or care of man, for ever and ever more! 1925

Why, Sirs, what 's this? Why, this is sorry and strange! ' '" -.

Futility, divagation : this from me

Bound to be rational, justify an act

Of sober man! — whereas, being moved so much,

^

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 235

I give you cause to doubt the lady^s mind : 1930

A pretty sarcasm for the world! I fear

You do her wit injustice, — all through me!

Like my £ite all through, — ineffective help!

A poor rash advocate I prove myself.

You might be angry with good cause : but sure 1935

At the advocate, — only at the undue zeal

That spoils the force of his own plea, I think ?

My part was just to tell you how things stand,

State facts and not be flustered at their fume.

But then H is a priest speaks : as for love, — no! 1940

If you let buzz a vulgar fly like that

About your brains, as if I loved, forsooth.

Indeed, Sirs, you do wrong! We had no thought

Of such infatuation, she and I :

There are many points that prove it : do be just! 1945

I told you, — at one little roadside-place

I spent a good half-hour, paced to and fro

The garden ; just to leave her free awhile,

I pluoced a handful of Spring herb and bloom :

I might have sat beside her on the bench 1950

Where the children were : I wish the thing had been,

Indeed : the event could not be worse, you know :

One more half-hour of her saved! She ^s dead now, Sirs!

While I was running on at such a rate.

Friends should have plucked me by the sleeve : I went 1955

Too much o* the trivial outside of her face

And the purity that shone there — plain to me,

Not to you, what more natural ? Nor am I

In£eituated, — oh, I saw, be sure!

Her brow had not the right line, leaned too much, i960

Painters would say ; they like the straight-up Greek :

This seemed bent somewhat with an invisible crown

Of martyr and saint, not such as art approves.

And how the dark orbs dwelt deep underneath.

Looked out of such a sad sweet heaven on me! 1965

The lips, compressed a little, came forward too,

Careful for a whole world of sin and pain.

That was the face, her husband makes his plea,

He sought just to disfigure, — no offence

Beyond that! Sirs, let us be rational! 1970

He needs must vindicate his honor, — ay.

Yet shirks, the coward, in a clown's disguise,

Away from the scene, endeavors to escape.

Now, had he done so, slain and left no trace

O' the slayer, — what were vindicated, pray? 1975

You had found his wife disfigured or a corpse.

For what and by whom? It is too palpable!

236 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Then, here 's another point involving law :

I use this argument to show you meant

No calumny against us by that title « 1980

O' the sentence, — liars try to twist it so :

What penalty it bore, I had to pay

Till further proof should follow of innocence —

Probationis ob defectum^ — proof?

How could you get proof without trying us ? 1985

You went through the preliminary form.

Stopped there, contrived this sentence to amuse

The adversary. If the title ran

For more than fault imputed and not proved,

That was a simple penman^s error, else 1990

A slip i' the phrase, — as when we say of you

" Charged with injustice " — which may either be

Or not be, — 't is a name that sticks meanwhile.

Another relevant matter : fool that I am !

Not what I wish true, yet a point friends urge : 1995

It is not true, — yet, since friends think it helps, —

She only tried me when some others failed —

Began with Conti, whom I told you of.

And Guillichini, Guido's kinsfolk both,

And when abandoned by them, not before, 2000

Turned to me. That 's conclusive why she turned.

Much good they got by the happy cowardice!

Conti is dead, poisoned a month ago :

Does that much strike you as a sin ? Not much,

After the present murder, — one mark more 2005

On the Moor's skin, — what is black by blacker still?

Conti had come here and told truth. And so

With Guillichini ; he 's condemned of course

To the galleys, as a friend in this affair.

Tried and condemned for no one thing i' the world, 2010

A fortnight since by who but the Governor? —

The just judge, who refused Pompilia help

At first blush, being her husband's friend, you know.

There are two tales to suit the separate courts,

Arezzo and Rome : he tells you here, we fled 2015

Alone, unhelped, — lays stress on the main fault.

The spiritual sin, Rome looks to : but elsewhere

He likes best we should break in, steal, bear off.

Be fit to brand and pillory and flog —

That 's the charge goes to the heart of the Governor : 2020

If these unpriest me, you and I may yet

Converse, Vincenzo Marzi-Medici !

Oh, Sirs, there are worse men than you, I say!

^ Probationis oh defectum : " for want of sufficient proof."

GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHL 337

More easily duped, I mean ; this stupid lie,

Its liar never dared propound in Rome, 2025

He gets Arezzo to receive, — nay more.

Gets Florence and the Duke to authorize!

This is their Rota^s sentence, their Granduke

Sifi^ns and seals! Rome for me henceforward — Rome,

Where better men are, — most of all, that man 2030

The Augustinian of the Hospital,

Who wntes the letter,^ — he confessed, he says.

Many a dying person, never one

So sweet and true and pure and beautiful.

A good man! Will you make him Pope one day? 2035

Not that he is not good too, this we have —

But old, — else he would have his word to speak.

His truth to teach the world : I thirst for truth,

But shall not drink it till I reach the source.

Sirs, I am quiet asain. You see, we are i , vN ' * 2040

So very pitiable, she and I,

Who had conceivably been otherwise.

Forget distemperature and idle heat!

Apart from truth^s sake, what ^s to move so much ?

Pompilia will be presently with God ; 2045

I am, on earth, as good as out of it,

A relegated priest ; when exile ends,

I mean to do my duty and live long.

She and I are mere strangers now : but priests

Should study passion ; how else cure mankind, 2050

Who come for help in passionate extremes ?

I do but play with an imagined life

Of who, unfettered by a vow, unblessed

By the higher call, — since you will have it so, —

Leads it companioned by the woman there. 2055

To live, and see her learn, and learn by her.

Out of the low obscure and petty world —

Or only see one purpose and one will

Evolve themselves T the world, change wrong to right :

To have to do with nothing but the true, 2060

The good, the eternal — and these, not alone

In the main current of the general life.

But small experiences of every day,

^Augustinian, . . who writes the letter : not say more for fear of being taxed with

Fr& Celestino Angelo di Sant Anna, the Au- partiality. I know well that God alone can

gustinian monk who confessed Pompilia, and examine the heart. But I know also that

whose deposition is given in a contemporary from the abundance of the heart the mouth

pamphlet describing the case, which fell into speaks; and that my great St. Augustine says:

Browning's hands in London. The confessor * As the life was, so is its end.' "
concluded his deposition as follows: "I do

238 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Concerns of the particular hearth and home :

To learn not only by a comet's rush 2065

But a rose's birth, — not by the grandeur, God —

But the comfort, Christ. All this, how far away!

Mere delectation, meet for a minute's dream! —

Just as a drudging student trims his lamp.

Opens his Plutarch,^ puts him in the place 2070

Of Roman, Grecian ; draws the patched gown close,

Dreams, **Thus should I fight, save or rule the world!" —

Then smilingly, contentedly, awakes

To the old solitary nothingness.

So I, from such communion, pass content . . . 2075

O great, just, good God! Miserable me!

* Plutarch : whose book relates the lives of Greek and Roman heroes.

POMPIUA. 239

VII.

POMPILIA.

[Pompilia, as she lies dying in the hospital, tells the story of her life with a sim-
plicity, durectness, and compassionateness that reveal a nature absolutely self-poised,
— a nature that perceives the intrinsically right with unerring certainty in spite of
Church, law, and public opinion, yet is forgiving toward those who had brought
upon her such agonies of spirit, and can even accept the darkest crime of all as
the means by which she will immediately attain the realization of perfect love.]

I AM just seventeen years and five months old,

And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks ;

T is writ so in the church's register,

Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names

At length, so many names for one poor child, 5

— Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela

Pompilia Comparini, — laughable!

Also H is writ that I was married there

Four years ago : and they will add, I hope,

When they insert my death, a word or two, — 10

Omitting all about the mode of death, —

This, in its place, this which one cares to know,

That 1 had been a mother of a son

Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace

O' the Curate, not through any claim I have ; 15

Because the boy was born at, so baptized

Close to, the Villa, in the proper church :

A pretty church, I say no word against.

Yet stranger-like, — while this Lorenzo seems

My own particular place, I always say. 20

I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high

As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,^

With half his body rushing from the wall.

Eating the figure of a prostrate man —

(To the right, it is, of entry by the door) 25

An ominous sign to one baptized like me,

Married, and to be buried there, I hope.

And they should add, to have my life complete,

He is a boy and Gaetan by name —

1 What the marble lion meant : a lion The lions in the portico are, together with the
preying (Hi a man symbolized the severity of Campanile, the oldest part of the church ol
the Church toward the impenitent or heretical. San Lorenzo.

240 THE RING AND THE BOOK

Gaetano, for a reason, — if the friar 30

Don Celestine will ask this grace for me

Of Curate Ottoboni : he it was

Baptized me : he remembers my whole life

As I do his gray hair.

All these few things j
I know are true, — will you remember them? 35

Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds, — twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much —
Or too much pain, — and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born, 40

— Better than born, baptized and hid away

Before this happened, safe from being hurt !

That had been sin God could not well forgive :

He was too young to smile and save himself.

When they took, two days after he was bom, 45

My babe away from me to be baptized

And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find, —

The country-woman, used to nursing babes.

Said " Why take on so ? where is the great loss ?

These next three weeks he will but sleep and feed, 50

Only begin to smile at the month's end ;

He would not know you, if you kept him here,

Sooner than that ; so, spend three merry weeks

Snug in the Villa, getting strong and stout.

And then I bring him back to be your own, 55

And both of you may steal to — we know where! "

The month — there wants of it two weeks this day!

Still, I half fancied when I heard the knock

At the Villa in the dusk, it might prove she —

Come to say " Since he smiles before the time, 60

Why should I cheat you out of one good hour?

Back I have brought him ; speak to nim and judge! ^

Now I shall never see him ; what is worse,

When he grows up and gets to be my age.

He will seem hardly more than a great boy ; 65

And if he asks " What was my mother like? "

People may answer " Like girls of seventeen " —

And how can he but think of this and that,

Lucias, Marias, Sofias, who titter or blush

When he regards them as such boys may do ? 70

Therefore I wish some one will please to say

I looked already old though I was young ;

Do I not . . . say, if you are by to speak . . .

Look nearer twenty? No more like, at least,

POMPIUA. 341

Girls who look arch or redden when boys laugh, 75

Than the poor Virgin that I used to know

At our street-corner in a lonely niche, —

The babe, that sat upon her knees, broke off, —

Thin white glazed clay, you pitied her the more :

She, not the gay ones, always got my rose. 80

/

A

How happy those are wlio know how to write!

Such could write what their son should read in time,

Had they a whole day to live out like me.

Also my name is not a common name,

" Pompilia," and may help to keep apart 85

A little the thing I am from what girls are.

But then how far away, how hard to find

Will anything about me have become.

Even if the boy bethink himself and ask!

No father that he ever knew at all, 90

Nor ever had — no, never had, I say!

That is the truth, — nor any mother left,

Out of the little two weeks that she lived,

Fit for such memory as might assist :

As good too as no family, no name, 95

Not even poor old Pietro's name, nor hers,

Poor kind unwise Violante, since it seems

They must not be my parents any more.

That is why something put it in my head

To call the boy "Gaetano" — no old name 100

For sorrow's sake ; I looked up to the sky

And took a new saint ^ to begin anew.

One who has only been made saint — how long?

Twenty-five years : so, carefiiller, perhaps,

To guard a namesake than those old saints grow, 105

Tired out by this time, — see my own five saints !

On second thoughts, I hope he will regard

The history of me as what some one dreamed,

And get to disbelieve it at the last :

Since to myself it dwindles fast to that, no

Sheer dreaming and impossibility, —

Just in four days too! All the seventeen years,

Not once did a suspicion visit me

How very different a lot is mine

From any other woman's in the world. 115

The reason must be, 't was by step and step

It got to grow so terrible and strange.

^A new saint': St Gaetan or Cajetan, Z480-X 547, and was canonized by Qement X.*
founder of the order of Theadns, who lived in 1671.

R

242 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

These strange woes stole on tiptoe, as it were.

Into my neighborhood and privacy,

Sat down where I sat, laid them where I lay ; X20

And I was found familiarized with fear,

When friends broke in, held up a torch aCnd cried

" Why, you Pompilia in the cavern thus.

How comes that arm of yours about a wolf?

And the soft length, — lies in and out your feet 125

And laps you round the knee, — a snake it is!"

And so on.

Well, and they are right enough, ' *^
By the torch they hold up now : for first, observe
I never had a father, — no, nor yet

A mother : my own boy can say at least 130

" I had a mother whom I kept two weeks! "
Not I, who little used to doubt . . . /doubt
Good Pietro, kind Violante, gave me birth?
They loved me always as I love my babe
( — Nearly so, that is — quite so could not be — ) X35

Did for me all I meant to do for him.
Till one surprising day, three years ago.
They both declared, at Rome, before some judge
In some Court where the people flocked to hear.
That really I had never been their child, 140

Was a mere castaway, the careless crime
Of an unknown man, the crime and care too much
Of a woman known too well, — little to these.
Therefore, of whom I was the flesh and blood :
What then to Pietro and Violante, both 145

No more my relatives than you or you?
Nothing to them! You know what they declared.

So with my husband, — just such a surprise, ""

Such a mistake, in that relationship!

Every one says that husbands love their wives, 150

Guard them and guide them, ^ve them happiness ;

'T is duty, law, pleasure, religion : well.

You see how much of this comes true in mine!

People indeed would fain have somehow proved

He was no husband : but he did not hear, 155

Or would not wait, and so has killed us all.

Then there is . . . only let me name one more!

There is the friend, — men will not ask about.

But tell untruths of, and give nicknames to.

And think my lover, most surprise of all! 160

Do only hear, it is the priest they mean,

Giuseppe Caponsacchi : a priest — love,

POMPILIA. 243

And love me! Well, yet people think he did.

I am married, he has taken priestly vows,

They know that, and yet go on, say, the same, 165

" Yes, how he loves you! " " That was love " — they say.

When anjrthing is answered that they ask :

Or else " No wonder you love him ". — they say.

Then they shake heads, pity much, scarcely blame —

As if we neither of us lacked excuse, 170

And anyhow are punished to the fiill.

And downright love atones for everything!

Nay, I heard read out in the public Court

Before the judge, in presence of my friends,

Letters ^t was said the priest had sent to me, 175

And other letters sent him by myself.

We being lovers!

Listen what this is like!
When I was a mere child, my mother . . . that 's
Violante, you must let me call her so

Nor waste time, trying to unlearn the word ... 180

She brought a neighbor's child of my own age
To play with me of rainy afternoons ;
And, smce there hung a tapestry on the wall,^
We two agreed to find each other out

Among the figures. "Tisbe, that is you, 185

With half-moon on your hair-knot, spear in hand,
Flying, but no wings, only the great scarf
Blown to a bluish rainbow at your back :
Call off your hound and leave the stae alone! "
** — Ana there are you, Pompilia, such green leaves 190

Flourishing out of your five nnger ends.
And all the rest of you so brown and rough :
Why is it you are turned a sort of tree ? "
You know the figures never were ourselves
Though we nicknamed them so. Thus, all my life, — 195
As well what was, as what, like this, was not, —
Looks old, fantastic and impossible :
I touch a fairy thing that fades and fades.
— Even to my babe ! I thought, when he was bom^
Something began for once that would not end, 200

Nor change into a laugh at me, but stay
For evermore, eternally quite mine.
Well, so he is, — but yet they bore him off,
The third day, lest my husband should lay traps
And catch him, and by means of him catch me. 205

Since they have saved him so, it was well done :

^ A tapestry on the wail : this tapestry evidently represented Diana hunting a stag
and hanuuihyads, or tree nymphs.

244 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Yet thence comes such confusion of what was

With what will be, — that l2ite seems long ago,

And, what years should bring round, already come.

Till even he withdraws into a dream 210

As the rest do : I fancy him grown great,

Strong, stern, a tall young man who tutors me.

Frowns with the others " Poor imprudent child!

Why did you venture out of the safe street?

Why go so far from help to that lone house? 215

Why open at the whisper and the knock ? "

Six days aeo when it was New Year*s-day,

We bent above the fire and talked of him.

What he should do when he was grown and great.

Violante, Pietro, each had given the arm 220

I leant on, to walk by, from couch to chair

And fireside, — laughed, as I lay safe at last,

" Pompilia's march from bed to board is made,

PompUia back again and with a babe.

Shall one day lend his arm and help her walk! " 225

Then we all wished each other more New Years.

Pietro began to scheme — " Our cause is gained ;

The law is stronger than a wicked man :

Let him henceforth go his way, leave us ours!

We will avoid the city, tempt no more 230

The greedy ones by feasting and parade, —

Live at the other villa, we know where.

Still farther off, and we can watch the babe

Grow fast in the good air ; and wood is cheap

And wine sincere outside the city gate. 235

I still have two or three old friends will grope

Their way along the mere half-mile of road,

With staff and lantern on a moonless night

When one needs talk : they '11 find me, never fear,

And I '11 find them a flask of the old sort yet ! " 240

Violante said " You chatter like a crow :

Pompilia tires o' the tattle, and shall to bed :

Do not too much the first day, — somewhat more

To-morrow, and, the next, begin the cape

And hood and coat ! I have spun wool enough." 245

Oh what a happy friendly eve was that!

And, next day, about noon, out Pietro went — ^ ^

He was so happy and would talk so much,

Until Violante pushed and laughed him forth

Sight-seeing in the cold, — " So much to see 250

r the churches! Swathe your throat three times! " she cried,

." And, above all, beware the slippery ways,

POMPIUA. 245

And brine us all the news by supper-time!**

He came back late, laid by cloak, staff and hat,

Powdered so thick with snow it made us laueh, 255

Rolled a great log upon the ash o* the hearth.

And bade Violante treat us to a flask,

Because he had obeyed her £euthfully,

Gone sight-see through the seven, and found no church

To his mind like San Giovanni ^ — " There 's the fold, 260

And all the sheep together, big as cats!

And such a shepherd, half the size of life,

Starts up and hears the anger^ — when, at the door,

A tap : we started up : you know the rest.

Pietro at least had done no harm, I know ; 265

Nor even Violante, so much harm as makes

Such revenge lawful. Certainly she erred —

Did wrong, how shall I dare say otherwise ? —

In telling that first falsehood, buying me

From my poor faulty mother at a pnce, 270

To pass on upon Pietro as his child.

If one should take my babe, give him a name.

Say he was not Gaetano and my own.

But that some other woman made his mouth

And hands and feet, — how very false were that! 275

No ^ood could come of that ; and all harm did.

Yet if a stranger were to represent

" Needs must you either give your babe to me

And let me call him mine for evermore.

Or let your husband get him " — ah, my God, 280

That were a trial I refuse to face!

Well, just so here : it proved wrong but seemed right

To poor Violante — for there lay, she said.

My poor real dying mother in her rags.

Who put me from her with the life and all, 285

Poverty, pain, shame and disease at once,

To die the easier by what price I fetched —

Also (I hope) because I should be spared

Sorrow and sin, — why may not that have helped?

My father, — he was no one, any one, — 290

The worse, the likelier, — call him — he who came,

Was wicked for his pleasure, went his way,

And left no trace to track by ; there remained

Nothing but me, the unnecessary life,

To catch up or let fall, — and yet a thing 295

1 San Giovanni: this church is built upon dates from the time of G>nstantine, and is
the site of the ancient palace of Plautius Lat- first in rank of the five patriarchal churches,
exanus, hence it is called " The Lateran." It

246 THE RING AITD THE BOOK.

She could make happy, be made happy with,
This poor Violante, — who would frown thereat?

Well, God, you see! God plants us where we grow. 0

It is not that because a bud is born

At a wild briar's end, full i' the wild beast's way, 300

We ought to pluck and put it out of reach

On the oak-tree top, — say "There the bud belongs!"

She thought, moreover, real lies were lies told

For harm's sake ; whereas this had good at heart,

Good for my mother, good for me, and good 305

For Pietro who was meant to love a babe.

And needed one to make his life of use,

Receive his house and land when he should die.

Wrong, wrone and always wrong! how plainly wrong!

For see, this iault kept pricking, as &ults do, 310

All the same at her heart : this falsehood hatched^

She could not let it go nor keep it fast.

She told me so, — the first time I was found

Locked in her arms once more after the pain,

When the nuns let me leave them and go home, 315

And both of us cried all the cares away, —

This it was set her on to make amends,

This brought about the marriage — simply this!

Do let me speak for her you blame so much !

When Paul, my husband's brother, found me out, 320

Heard there was wealth for who should marry me,

So, came and made a speech to ask my hand

For Guido, — she, instead of piercing straight

Through the pretence to the ignoble truth,

Fancied she saw God's very finger point, 325

Designate just the time for planting me

(The wild-briar slip she plucked to love and wear)

In soil where I could strike real root, and grow,

And get to be the thing I called myself:

For, wife and husband are one flesh, God says, 330

And I, whose parents seemed such and were none,

Should in a husband have a husband now.

Find nothing, this time, but was what it seemed,

— All truth and no confusion any more.

I know she meant all good to me, all pain 335

To herself, — since how could it be aught but pain,

To give me up, so, from her very breast,

The wilding flower-tree-branch that, all those years.

She had got used to feel for and find fixed?

She meant well : has it been so ill i' the main? 340

That is but fair to ask : one cannot judge

Of what has been the ill or well of life,

POMPIUA. ' 247

The day that one is dying, — sorrows change

Into not altogether sorrow-like ;

I do see strangeness but scarce misery, 345

Now it is over, and no danger more.

My child is safe ; there seems not so much pain.

It comes, most like, that I am just absolved.

Purged of the past, the foul in me, washed ^r, —

One cannot both have and not have, you know, — 350

Being right now, I am happy and color things.

Yes, everybody that leaves life sees all

Softened and bettered : so with other sights :

To me at least was never evening yet

But seemed far beautifuller than its day, 355

For past is past.

There was a fancy came, 3 ^ ^
When somewhere, in the journey with my friend,
We stepped into a hovel to get food ;
And there began a yelp here, a bark there, —
Misunderstanding creatures that were wroth 360

And vexed themselves and us till we retired.
The hovel is life : no matter what dogs bit
Or cats scratched in the hovel I break from.
All outside is lone field, moon and such peace —
Flowing in, filling up as with a sea 365

Whereon comes Someone, walks fast on the white,
Jesus Christ's self, Don CelesfftR declares.
To meet me and calm all things back again.

Beside, up to my marriage, thirteen years '.:

Were, each day, happy as the day was long : 370

This may have made the change too terrible.

I know that when Violante told me first

The cavalier — she meant to bring next morn,

Whom I must also let take, kiss my hand —

Would be at San Lorenzo the same eve 375

And marry me, — which over, we should go

Home both of us without him as before.

And, till she bade speak, I must hold my tongue.

Such being the correct way with girl-brides.

From whom one word would make a father blush, — 380

I know, I say, that when she told me this,

— Well, I no more saw sense in what she said

Than a lamb does in people clipping wool ;

Only lay down and let myself be clipped.

And when next day the cavalier who came — 385

(Tisbe had told me that the slim young man

With wings at head, and wings at feet, and sword

24^ ' THE RIISTG AI^D THE BOOK.

Threatening a monster, in our tapestry,

Would eat a girl else, — was a cavalier*)

When he proved Guido Franceschini, — old 390

And nothing like so tall as I myself,

Hook-nosed and yellow in a bush of beard.

Much like a thing I saw on a boy^s wrist,

He called an owl and used for catching birds, —

And when he took my hand and made a smile — 395

Why, the uncomfortableness of it all

Seemed hardly more important in the case

Than, — when one ffives you, say, a coin to spend,—

Its newness or its oTdness ; if the piece

Weigh properly and buy you what you wish, 400

No matter whether you get grime or glare!

Men take the coin, return you grapes and figs.

Here, marriage was the com, a dirty piece

Would purchase me the praise of those I loved :

About what else should I concern myself? 405

So, hardly knowing what a husband meant,

I supposed this or any man would serve.

No whit the worse for being so uncouth :

For I was ill once and a doctor came

With a great ugly hat, no plume thereto, 410

Black jerkin and black buckles and black sword^

And white sharp beard over the ruflf in front.

And oh so lean, so sour-faced and austere ! —

Who felt my pulse, made me put out my tongue,

Then oped a phial, dripped a drop or two 415

Of a black bitter something, — I was cured!

What mattered the fierce beard or the grim fece?

It was the physic beautified the man,

Master Malpichi,* — never met his match

In Rome, they said, — so ugly all the same! 420

However, I was hurried through a storm,

Next dark eve of December's deadest day —

How it rained! — through our street and the Lion's-mouth *

And the bit of Corso, — cloaked round, covered close,

I was like something strange or contraband, — 425

Into blank San Lorenzo, up the aisle,

My mother keeping hold of me so tight,

I fancied we were come to see a corpse

y Cavalier : Perseus rescuing Andromeda is probably meant. He became physician to

from the sea-monster. Pope Innocent XII. (1628-1694).

^Master Malhtchi : there was a great * LioiCs-mouth : the name of a street in

physician named " Marcello Malpighi " who Rome. Via di Bocca di Lione,

POMPILIA. 349

Before the altar which she pulled me toward.

There we found waiting an unpleasant priest 430

Who proved the brother, not our parish friend,

But one with mischief-making mouth and eye,

Paul, whom I know since to my cost. And then

I heard the heavy church-door lock out help

Behind us : for the customary warmth, 435

Two tapers shivered on the siltar. " Quick —

Lose no time! " cried the priest. And straightway down

From . . . what 's behind the altar where he hid —

Hawk-nose and yellowness and bush and all.

Stepped Guido, caught my hand, and there was I 440

O^ the chancel, and the priest had opened book.

Read here and there, made me say that and this,

And after, told me I was now a wife.

Honored indeed, since Christ thus weds the Church,

And therefore turned he water into wine, 445

To show I should obey my spouse like Christ.

Then the two slipped aside and talked apart.

And 1, silent and scared, got down again

And joined my mother who was weeping now.

Nobody seemed to mind us any more, 450

And both of us on tiptoe found our way

To the door which was unlocked by this, and wide.

When we were in the street, the rain had stopped.

All things looked better. At our own house-door,

Violante whispered " No one syllable 455

To Pietrol Girl-brides never breathe a word!"

" — Well treated to a wetting, draggle-tails ! "

Laughed Pietro as he opened — "Very near

You made me brave the gutter's roaring sea

To carry off from roost old dove and youne, 460

Trussed up in church, the cote, by me, the kite!

What do these priests mean, praying folk to death

On stormy afternoons, with Christmas close

To wash our sins off nor require the rain ? "

Violante gave my hand a timely squeeze, 465

Madonna saved me from immodest speech,

I kissed him and was quiet, being a bride.

When I saw nothing more, the next three weeks.

Of Guido — "Nor the Church sees Christ" thought I :

" Nothing is changed however, wine is wine 470

And water only water in our house.

Nor did I see that ugly doctor since

That cure of the illness : just as I was cured,

I am married, — neither scarecrow will return."

Three weeks, I chuckled — " How would Giulia stare^ .. AJJ^

250 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

And Tecla smile and Tisbe laugh outrieht.

Were it not impudent for brides to talk!" —

Until one morning, as I sat and sang

At the broidery-frame alone i' the chamber, — loud

Voices, two, three together, sobbings too, 480

And my name, " Guido," " Paolo," flung like stones

From each to the other! In I ran to see.

There stood the very Guido and the priest

With sly face, — formal but nowise afraid, —

While Pietro seemed all red and angry, scarce 485

Able to stutter out his wrath in words ;

And this it was that made my mother sob.

As he reproached her — "You have murdered us,

Me and yourself and this our child beside! "

Then Guido interposed " Murdered or not, 490

Be it enough your child is now my wife!

I claim and come to take her." Paul put in,

" Consider — kinsman, dare I term you so ? —

What is the good of your sagacity

Except to counsel in a strait like this? 495

I guarantee the parties man and wife

Whether you like or loathe it, bless or ban.

May spilt milk be put back within the bowl —

The done thing, undone ? You, it is, we look

For counsel to, you fitliest will advise! - 500

Since milk, though spilt and spoilt, does marble good,

Better we down on knees and scrub the floor,

Than sigh, * the waste would make a syllabub! '

Help us so turn disaster to account.

So predispose the groom, he needs shall grace 505

The bride with favor from the very first,

Not begin marriage an embittered man ! "

He smiled, — the game so wholly in his hands!

While fast and faster sobbed Violante — "Ay,

All of us murdered, past averting now! 510

0 my sin, O my secret! " and such like.

Then I began to half surmise the truth ; ^

Something had happened, low, mean, underhand,

False, and my mother was to blame, and I

To pity, whom all spoke of, none addressed : 515

1 was the chattel that had caused a crime.

I stood mute, — those who tangled must untie

The embroilment. Pietro cried "Withdraw, my child!

She is not helpful to the sacrifice

At this stage, — do you want the victim by 520

While you discuss the value of her blood?

POMPILIA. 251

For her sake, I consent to hear you talk :
Go, child, and pray God help the innocent!^

c.

I did go and was prayine God, when came U '^ ^

Violante, with eyes swoUen and red enough, 525

But movement on her mouth for make-believe

Matters were somehow getting right again.

She bade me sit down bv her side and hear.

^ You are too young and cannot understand,

Nor did your father understand at first. 530

I wished to benefit all three of us.

And when he failed to take my meaning, — why,

I tried to have my way at unaware —

Obtained him the advantage he refiised.

As if I put before him wholesome food 535

Instead of broken victual, — he finds change

r the viands, never cares to reason why.

But falls to blaming me, would fiine the plate

From window, scandalize the neighborhood,

Even while he smacks his lips, — men^s way, my child! 540

But either you have prayed him unperverse

Or I have talked him back into his wits :

And Paolo was a help in time of need, —

Guido, not much — my child, the way of men!

A priest is more a woman than a man, 545

And Paul did wonders to persuade. In short,

Yes, he was wrong, your father sees and says ;

My scheme was worth attempting : and bears fruit,

Gives you a husband and a noble name,

A palace and no end of pleasant things. 550

What do you care about a handsome youth ?

They are so volatile, and tease their wives!

This is the kind of man to keep the house.

We lose no daughter, — gain a son, that's all :

For 't is arranged we never separate, 555

Nor miss, in our gray time of life, the tints

Of you that color eve to match with morn.

In good or ill, we share and share alike.

And cast our lots into a common lap,

And all three die together as we lived! 560

Only, at Arezzo, — that 's a Tuscan town,

Not so large as this noisy Rome, no doubt,

But older far and finer much, say folk, —

In a great palace where you will be queen,

Know the Archbishop and the Governor, 565

And we see homage done you ere we die.

Therefore, be good and pardon! " — " Pardon what?

252 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

You know things, I am very ignorant :

All is right if you only will not cry ! " . , I

And so an end ! Because a blank begins ^ ^ 570

From when, at the word, she kissed me hard and hot.

And took me back to where my father leaned

Opposite Guido — who stood eyeing him,

As eyes the butcher the cast panting ox

That feels his fate is come, nor struggles more, — 575

While Paul looked archly on, pricked brow at whiles

With the pen-point as to punish triumph there, —

And said " Count Guido, tafee your lawful wife

Until death part you! " , ^

All since is one blank, ^ \)
Over and ended ; a terrific dream. 580

It is the good of dreams — so soon they go!
Wake in a horror of heart-beats, you may —
Cry "The dread thing will never from my thoughts!"
Still, a few daylight doses of plain life,

Cock-crow and sparrow-chirp, or bleat and bell 585

Of goats that trot by, tinkling, to be milked ;
And when you rub your eyes awake and wide.
Where is the harm o' the horror? Gone! So here.
I know I wake, — but from what? Blank, I say!
This is the note of evil : for good lasts. 590

Even when Don Celestine bade " Search and find!
For your souPs sake, remember what is past.
The better to forgive it," — all in vain!
What was fast getting indistinct before.
Vanished outright. By special grace perhaps, 595

Between that first calm and this last, four years
Vanish, — one quarter of my life, you know.
I am held up, amid the nothingness.
By one or two truths only — thence I hang.
And there I live, — the rest is death or dream, 600

All but those points of my support. I think
Of what I saw at Rome once in the Square
O' the Spaniards,^ opposite the Spanish House :
There was a foreigner had trained a goat,
A shuddering white woman of a beast, 605

To climb up, stand straight on a pile of sticks
Put close, which gave the creature room enough :
When she was settled there he, one by one.
Took away all the sticks, left just the four

^ Square o* the Spaniards : Piazza di Spagne is in the centre of the strangers^
quarter in Rome.

POMPIUA. 253

Whereon the little hoofe did really rest, 6io

There she kept firm, all underneath was air.

So, what I hold by, are my prayer to God,

My hope, that came in answer to the prayer,

Some hand would interpose and save me — hand

Which proved to be my firiend^s hand : and, — blest bliss, — 615

That fsmcy which began so £unt at first.

That thrill of dawn^s sufiusion through my dark.

Which I perceive was promise of my child.

The light his unborn ace sent long before, —

God^s wav of breaking the good news to flesh. 620

That is all left now of those four bad years.

Don Celestine urged " But remember more!

Other men^s faults may help me find your own.

I need the cruelty exposed, explained.

Or how can I advise you to forgive ? " 625

He thought I could not properly forgive

Unless I ceased forgetting, — which is true :

For, bringing back reluctantly to mind

My husband^ treatment of me, — by a light

That 's later than my life-time, I review 630

And comprehend much and imagine more.

And have but little to forgive at last.

For now, — be fair and say, — is it not true

He was ill-used and cheated of his hope

To get enriched by marriage? Marriage gave 635

Me and no money, broke the compact so :

He had a right to ask me on those terms,

As Pietro and Violante to declare

They would not give me : so the bargain stood :

They broke it, and he felt himself aggrieved, 640

Became unkind with me to punish them.

They said 't was he began deception first.

Nor, in one point whereto he pledged himself.

Kept promise : what of that, suppose it were?

Echoes die off, scarcely reverberate 645

Forever, — why should ill keep echoing ill,

And never let our ears have done with noise ?

Then my poor parents took the violent way

To thwart him, — he must needs retaliate, — wrong,

Wrong, and all wrong, — better say, all blind! 650

As I myself was, that is sure, who else

Had understood the mystery : for his wife

Was bound in some sort to help somehow there.

It seems as if I might have interposed,

Blunted the edge of their resentment so, 655

Since he vexed me because they first vexed him ;

^ I will entreat them to desist, submit,

254 THE RIATG AND THE BOOK.

Give him the money and be poor in peace, —

Certainly not go tell the world : perhaps

He will grow quiet with his gains." . \^

U
Yes, say ^ 660

Something to this effect and you do well!

But then you have to see first : I was blind.

That is the fruit of all such wormy ways,

The indirect, the unapproved of God :

You cannot find their author^s end and aim, 665

Not even to substitute your good for bad,

Your straight for the irregular ; you stand

Stupefied, profitless, as cow or sheep

That miss a man^s mind, anger him just twice

By trial at repairing the first fault. 670

Thus, when he blamed me, " You are a coquette,

A lure-owl posturing to attract birds.

You look love-lures at theatre and church.

In walk, at window! " — that, I knew, was false :

But why he charged m^ falsely, whither sought 675

To drive me by such charge, — how could I know?

So, unaware, I only made things worse.

I tried to soothe him by abjuring walk.

Window, church , theatre, for good and all.

As if he had been in earnest : that, you know, 680

Was nothing like the object of his charge.

Yes, when I got my maid to supplicate

The priest, whose name she read when she would read

Those feigned false letters I was forced to hear

Though I could read no word of, — he should cease 685

Writing, — nay, if he minded prayer of mine.

Cease from so much as even pass the street

Whereon our house looked, — in my ignorance

I was just thwarting Guido's true intent ;

Which was, to bring about a wicked change 690

Of sport to earnest, tempt a thoughtless man

To write indeed, and pass the house, and more,

Till both of us were taken in a crime.

He ought not to have wished me thus act lies,

Simulate folly : but, — wrong or right, the wish, — 695

I failed to apprehend its drift. How plain

It follows, — if I fell into such fault.

He also may have overreached the mark.

Made mistake, by perversity of brain,

r the whole sad strange plot, the grotesque intrigue 700

To make me and my friend unself ourselves.

Be other man and woman than we were!

Think it out, you who have the time! for me, —

POMPIUA, 255

I cannot say less ; more I will not say.

Leave it to God to cover and undo! 705

Only, my dulness should not prove too much!

— Not prove that in a certain other point
Wherein my husband blamed me, — and you blame.
If I interpret smiles and shakes of head, —

I was diill too. Oh, if I dared but speak! 710

Must I speak? I am blamed that I forwent
A way to make my husband^s favor come.
That is true : I was firm, withstood, refused . . .

— Women as you are, how can I find the words?

I felt there was just one thing Guido claimed 715

I had no right to give nor he to take ;
We being in estrangement, soul from soul :
Till, when I sought help, the Archbishop smiled.
Inquiring into privacies of life,

— Said 1 was blameable — (he stands for God) 720
Nowise entitled to exemption there.

Then I obeyed, — as surely had obeyed

Were the injunction " Since your husband bids,

Swallow the burning coal he proffers you! "

But I did wrong, and he gave wrong advice 725

Though he were thrice Archbishop, — that, I know! —

Now I have got to die and see things clear.

Remember I was barely twelve years old —

A child at marriage : 1 was let aJone

For weeks, I told you, lived my child-life still 730

Even at Arezzo, when I woke and found

First . . . but I need not think of that again —

Over and ended! Try and take the sense

Of what I signify, if it must be so.

After the first, my husband, for hate's sake, 735

Said one eve, when the simpler cruelty

Seemed somewhat dull at edge and fit to bear,

" We have been man and wife six months almost :

How long is this your comedy to last ?

Go this night to my chamber, not your own ! " 740

At which word, I did rush — most true the charge —

And gain the Archbishop's house — he stands for God —

And rail upon my knees and clasp his feet,

Praying him hinder what my estranged soul

Refused to bear, though patient of the rest : 745

" Place me within a convent,'' I implored —

" Let me henceforward lead the virgin life

You praise in Her you bid me imitate ! "

What did he answer? " Folly of ignorance!

Know, daughter, circumstances make or mar 750

Virginity, — 't is virtue or 't is vice.

256 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

That which was glory in the Mother of God

Had been, for instance, damnable in Eve

Created to be mother of mankind.

Had Eve, in answer to her Maker^s speech 755

' Be fhiithil, multiply, replenish earth ^ —

Pouted ^ But I choose rather to remain

Single,' — why, she had spared herself forthwith

Further probation by the apple and snake,

Been pushed straight out of Paradise! For see — 760

If motherhood be qualified impure,

I catch you making God command Eve sin!

— A blasphemy so like these Molinists',
I must suspect you dip into their books.''

Then he pursued " 'T was in your covenant! '* 765

No! There my husband never used deceit.

He never did by speech nor act imply

" Because of our souls' yearning that we meet

And mix in soul through flesh, which yours and mine

Wear and impress, and make their visible selves, 770

— All which means, for the love of you and me,
Let us become one flesh, being one soul! "

He only stipulated for the wedth ;

Honest so far. But when he spoke as plain —

Dreadfully honest also — " Since our souls 775

Stand each from each, a whole world's width between,

Give me the fleshly vesture I can reach

And rend and leave just fit for hell to burn ! " —

Why, in God's name, for Guido's soul's own sake

Imperilled by polluting mine, — I say, 780

I did resist ; would I had overcome!

My heart died out at the Archbishop's smile ; v c

— It seemed so stale and worn a way o' the world,
As though 't were nature frowning — " Here b Spring,

The sun shines as he shone at Adam's fall, 785

The earth requires that warmth reach everywhere :

What, must your patch of snow be saved forsooth

Because you rather fancy snow than flowers ? "

Something in this style he began with me.

Last he said, savagely for a good man, 790

" This explains why you call your husband harsh.

Harsh to you, harsh to whom you love. God's Bread!

The poor Count has to manage a mere child

Whose parents leave untaught the simplest things

Their duty was and privilege to teach, — 795

Goodwives' instruction, gossips' lore : they laugh

And leave the Count the task, — or leave it me! "

FOMPJUA. 2S7

Then I resolved to tell a frightful thmg.

<M am not i^porant, — know what I say.

Declaring this b soup;ht for hate, not love. 800

Sir, vou may hear things like almighty God.

I tell you that my housemate, yes — the priest

My husband^s brother, Canon Girolamo —

Has taught me what depraved and misnamed love

Means, and what outward signs denote the sin, 805

For he solicits me and says he loves.

The idle young priest with nought else to do.

Mjr husband sees this, knows this, and lets be.

Is it your counsel I bear this beside? "

^ — More scandal, and against a priest this time! 810

What, His the Canon now?^' — less snappishly —

** Rise up, my child, for such a child you are,

The rod were too advanced a punishment!

Let ^s try the honeyed cake. A parable !

* Without a parable spake He not to them.' 815
There was a ripe round long black toothsome fruit.

Even a flower-fig, the prime boast of May :

And, to the tree, said . . . either the spirit o' the Agy

Or, if we bring in men, the gardener.

Archbishop 01 the orchard — had I time 820

To try o' the two which fits in best : indeed

It might be the Creator's self, but then

The tree should bear an apple, I suppose, —

Well, anyhow, one with authority said

*Ripe fig, burst skin, regale the fig-pecker — 825

The bird whereof thou art a perquisite! '

* Nay,' with a flounce, replied the restif fig,

* I much prefer to keep my pulp myself:
He may go break£eistless and dinnerless,

Supperless of one crimson seed, for me! ' 830

So, back she flopped into her bunch of leaves.

He flew off, left her, — did the natural lord, —

And lo, three hundred thousand bees and wasps

Found her out, feasted on her to the shuck :

Such gain the fig's that gave its bird no bite ! 835

The moral, — fools elude their proper lot,

Tempt other fools, get ruined all alike.

Therefore go home, embrace your husband quick!

Which if his Canon brother chance to see.

He will the sooner back to book again." 840

So, home I did go ; so, the worst befell :
So, I had proof the Archbishop was just man.
And hardly that, and certainly no more.
For, miserable consequence to me,

258 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

My husband^s hatred waxed nor waned at all, 845

His brother's boldness grew eflfrontery soon,

And my last stay and comfort in myself

Was forced from me : henceforth I looked to God

Only, nor cared my desecrated soul

Should have fair walls, gay windows for the world. 850

God's glimmer, that came through the ruin-top.

Was witness why all lights were quenched inside :

Henceforth I asked God counsel, not mankind.

So, when I made the effort, freed myself, n6

They said — " No* care to save appearance here! 855

How cynic, — when, how wanton, were enough!"

— Adding, it all came of my mother's life —

My own real mother, whom I never knew.

Who did wrong (if she needs must have done wrong)

Through being all her life, not my four years, 860

At mercy of the hateful : every beast

O' the field was wont to break that fountain-fence,

Trample the silver into mud so murk

Heaven could not find itself reflected there.

Now they cry " Out on her, who, plashy pool, 865

Bequeathed turbidity and bitterness

To the daughter-stream where Guido dipt and drank!"

Well, since she had to bear this brand — let me!

The rather do I understand her now,

From my experience of what hate calls love, — 870

Much love might be in what their love called hate.

If she sold . . . what they call, sold ... me her child —

I shall believe she hoped in her poor heart

That I at least might try be good and pure,

Begin to live untempted, not go doomed 875

And done with ere once found in fault, as she.

Oh and, my mother, it all came to this ?

Why should I trust those that speak ill of you.

When I mistrust who speaks even well of them ?

Why, since all bound to do me good, did harm, 880

May not you, seeming as you harmed me most.

Have meant to do most good — and feed your child

From bramble-bush, whom not one orchard-tree

But drew bough back from, nor let one fruit fall?

This it was for you sacrificed your babe ? 885

Gained just this, giving your heart's hope away

As I might give mine, loving it as you.

If . . . but that never could be asked of me!

There, enough! I have my support again.

'A

POMPIUA. 259

Afi^dn the knowledge that my babe was, is, 890

Will be mine only. Him, by death, I give

Outright to God, without a further care, —

But not to any parent in the world, —

So to be safe : why is it we repine ?

What guardianship were safer could we choose? 895

All human plans and projects come to nought :

My life, and what I know of other lives.

Prove that : no plan nor project! God shall care!

And now you are not tired? How patient then '

All of jou, — Oh yes, patient this long while 900

Listenmg, and understanding, I am sure!

Four days ago, when I was sound and well

And like to Hve, no one would understand.

People were kind, but smiled << And what of him.

Your friend, whose tonsure the rich dark-brown hides ? 905

There, there! — your lover, do we dream he was?

A priest too — never were such naughtiness!

Still, he thinks many a long think, never fear,

After the shy pale lady, — lay so light

For a moment in his arms, the lucky one! ^^ 910

And so on : wherefore should I blame you much ? •

So we are made, such difference in minds,

Such difference too in eyes that see the minds !

That man, you misinterpret and misprise —

Theg^lory of his nature, I had thought, 915

Shot itself out in white li|;ht, blazed the truth

Through every atom of his act with me :

Yet where I point you, through the crystal shrine,

Purity in quintessence, one dew-drop.

You all descry a spider in the midst. 920

One says " The head of it is plain to see,"

And one, " They are the feet by which I judge,"

All say, "Those films were spun by nothmg else." f

Then, I must lay my babe away with God, ^

Nor think of him again, for gratitude. 925

Yes, my last breath shall wholly spend itself

In one attempt more to disperse the stain.

The mist from other breath fond mouths have made,

About a lustrous and pellucid soul :

So that, when I am gone but sorrow stays, 930

And people need assurance in their doubt

If God yet have a servant, man a friend,

The weak a saviour and the vile a foe, —

Let him be present, by the name invoked;

Giuseppe-Maria Caponsacchi!

26o THE RING AND THE BOOK. ^

There, ^ 935

Strength comes already with the utterance!
I will remember once more for his sake
The sorrow : for he lives and is belied.
Could he be here, how he would speak for me!

I had been miserable three drear ^ears 940

In that dread palace and lay passive now,

When I first learned there could be such a man.

Thus it fell : I was at a public play,

In the last days of Carnival last March,

Brought there I knew not why, but now know well. 945

My husband put me where I sat, in front ;

Then crouched down, breathed cold through me from behind,

Stationed i^ the shadow, — none in front could see, —

I, it was, faced the stranger-throng beneath.

The crowd with upturned faces, eyes one stare, 950

Voices one buzz. I looked but to the stage,

Whereon two lovers sang and interchanged

" True life is only love, love only bliss :

I love thee — thee I love! " then they embraced.

I looked thence to the ceiling and the walls, — 955

Over the crowd, those voices and those eyes, —

My thoughts went through the roof and out, to Rome

On wings of music, waft of measured words, —

Set me down there, a happy child again

Sure that to-morrow would be festa-day, 960

Hearing my parents praise past festas more.

And seeing they were old if I was young.

Yet wondering why they still would end discourse

With " We must soon go, you abide your time.

And, — might we haply see the proper friend 965

Throw his arm over you and make you safe!"

71 \\
Sudden I saw him ; into my lap there fell ^ '
A foolish twist of comfits, broke my dream
And brought me from the air and laid me low.
As ruined as the soaring bee that 's reached 970

(So Pietro told me at the Villa once)
By the dust-handful. There the comfits lay:
I looked to see who flung them, and I faced
This Caponsacchi, looking up in turn.

Ere I could reason out why, I felt sure, 975

Whoever flung them, his was not the hand, —
Up rose tl)e round face and good-natured grin
Of one who, in effect, had played the prank.
From covert close beside the earnest face, —
Fat waggish Conti, friend of all the world. 980

POMPILIA. 261

He was my husband^s cousin, privileged
To throw the thing : the other, silent, grave^
Solemn almost, saw me, as I saw him.

There is a psalm Don Celestine recites, '!^

** Had I a dove's wings, how ! fain would flee! " 985

The psalm runs not '' I hope, I pray for wings,^ —

Not '' If wings fall from heaven, I fix them fa&Xj^ —

Simply " How good it were to fly and rest.

Have hope now, and one day expect content!

How well to do what I shall never do! ** 990

So I said ^ Had there been a man like that,

To lift me with his strength out of all strife

Into the calm, how I could fly and rest!

I have a keeper in the garden here

Whose sole employment is to strike me low 995

if ever I, for solace, seek the sun.

Life means with me successful feigning death,

Lying stone-like, eluding notice so,

Foregoing here the turf and there the sky.

Suppose that man had been instead of this! ^ looo

Presently Conti laughed into my ear,

— Had tripped up to the raised place where I sat —

^^ Cousin, I flung them brutishly and hard !

Because you must be hurt, to look austere

As Capotisacchi yonder, my tall friend 1005

A-gazmg now. Ah, Guido, you so close?

Keep on your knees, do ! Beg her to forgive!

My cornet ^ battered like a cannon-ball.

Good-bye, Pm gone!" — nor waited the reply.

That night at supper, out my husband broke, loio

" Why was that throwing, that buffoonery ?

Do you think I am your dupe ? What man would dare

Throw comfits in a stranger lady's lap?

'T was knowledge of you bred such insolence

In Caponsacchi ; he dared shoot the bolt, 1015

Using that Conti for his stalking-horse.

How could you see him this once and no more,

When he is always haunting hereabout

At the street-corner or the palace-side.

Publishing my shame and your impudence? 1020

You are a wanton, — I a dupe, you think?

O Christ, what hinders that I kill her quick ? "

Whereat he drew his sword and feigned a thrust.

^ Comet: a piece ofpttper twisted into a conkal shape (suchasiscommonljrusedbygrocets)

262 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

^\\
All this, now, — being not so strange to me, \ '
Used to such misconception day bv day 1025

And broken-in to bear, — I bore, this time,
More quietly than woman should perhaps ;
Repeated the mere truth and held my tongue.

Then he said, <' Since you play the ignorant,

I shall instruct you. This amour, — commenced 1030

Or finished or midway in act, all ^s one, —

'T is the town-talk ; so my revenge shall be.

Does he presume because he is a priest ?

I warn him that the sword I wear shall pink

His' lily-scented cassock through and through, 1035

Next time I catch him underneath your eaves!''

But he had threatened with the sword so oft

And, after all, not kept his promise. All

I said was '^ Let God save the innocent!

Moreover death is £»* from a bad fate. 1040

I shall go pray for you and me, not him ;

And then I look to sleep, come death or, worse,

Life." So, 1 slept.

r \

There may have elapsed a week, ^ ^ ^
When Margherita, — called my waiting-maid,
Whom it is said my husband found too fair — 1045

Who stood and heard the charge and the reply.
Who never once would let the matter rest
From that night forward, but rang changes still
On this the thrust and that the shame, and how
Good cause for jealousy cures jealous fools, 1050

And what a paragon was this same priest
She talked about until I stopped my ears, —
She said, " A week is gone ; you comb your hair.
Then go mope in a corner, cheek on psdm.
Till night comes round again, — so, waste a week 1055

As if your husband menaced you in sport.
Have not I some acquaintance with his tricks?
Oh no, he did not stab the serving-man
Who made and sang the rhymes about me once!
For why ? They sent him to the wars next day. 1060

Nor poisoned he the foreigner, my friend
Who wagered on the whiteness of my breast, —
The swarth skins of our city in dispute :
For, though he paid me proper compliment.
The Count well knew he was besotted with 1065

Somebody else, a skin as black as ink,
(As all the town knew save my foreigner)
He found and wedded presently, — * Why need

POMPIUA. 263

Better revenge?* — the Count asked. But what *s here?

A priest that does not fight, and cannot wed^ 1070

Yet must be dealt with ! If the Count took fire

For the poor pastime of a minute, — me —

What were the conflagration for yourself,

Countess and lady-wile and all the rest?

The priest will perish ; you will grieve too late : 1075

So shall the cit^-ladies^ handsomest

Frankest and liberalest gentleman

Die for you, to appease a scurvy dog

Hanging *s too good for. Is there no escape?

Were it not simple Christian charity 1080

To warn the priest be on his guard, — save him

Assured death, save yourself from causing it ?

I meet him in the street. Give me a glove,

A ring to show for token! Mum^s the word!*'

I answered ** If you were, as styled, my maid, 1085

I would command you : as you are, you say,

My husband^s intimate, — assist his wife

Who can do nothing but entreat * Be still ! '

Even if you speak truth and a crime is planned.

Leave help to God as I am forced to do! 1090

There is no other help, or we should craze,

Seeing such evil with no human cure.

Reflect that God, who makes the storm desist,

Can make an angry violent heart subside.

Why should we venture teach Him governance? 1095

Never address me on this subject more! **

Next night she said << But I went, all the same, '

— Ay, saw your Caponsacchi in his house,

And come back stuffed with news I must outpour.

I told him <Sir, my mistress is a stone : 1 100

Why should you harm her for no good you get?

For you do harm her — prowl about our place

With the Count never distant half the street.

Lurking at every corner, would you look!

'T is certain she has witched you with a spell. 1105

Are there not other beauties at your beck ?

We all know. Donna This and Monna That

Die for a glance of yours, yet here you gaze!

Go make them grateful, leave the stone its coldl'

And he — oh, he turned first white and then red, Hit

And then — * To her behest I bow myself.

Whom I love with my body and my soul :

Only a word i' the bowing! See, I write

One little word, no harm to see or hear!

2&4 THE RING AND THE BOOK,

Then, fear no further! * This is what he wrote. 1 1 15

I know you cannot read, — therefore, let me!
'My idol!''' ...

But I took it from her hand f '
And tore it into shreds. " Why, join the rest
Who harm me? Have I ever done you wrong?
People have told me 't is you wrong myself: 1 120

Let it suffice I either feel no wrong
Or else forgive it, — yet you turn my foe!
The others hunt me and you throw a noose! ^

She muttered " Have your wilful way! " I slept.

Whereupon . . . no, I leave my husband out! 11 25

It is not to do him more hurt, I speak.

Let it suffice, when misery was most,

One day, I swooned and got a respite so.

She stooped as I was slowly coming to,

This Margherita, ever on my trace, 1130

And whispered — " Caponsacchi! "

If I drowned, -, \^-
But woke afloat i' the wave with upturned eyes.
And found their first sight was a star! I turned —
For the first time, I let her have her will.
Heard passively, — " The imposthume at such head, 1 135

One touch, one lancet-puncture would relieve, —
And still no glance the good physician's way
Who rids you of the torment in a trice !
Still he writes letters you refuse to hear.
He may prevent your husband, kill himself, 1 140

So desperate and all fordone is he !
Just hear the pretty verse he made to-day!
A sonnet from Mirtillo.* ' Peerless fair . . .•
All poetry is difficult to read,

— The sense of it is, anyhow, he seeks 1145

Leave to contrive you an escape from hell.
And for that purpose asks an interview.
I can write, I can grant it in your name.
Or, what is better, lead you to his house.
Your husband dashes you against the stones ; 11 50

This man would place each fragment in a shrine :
You hate him, love your husband ! "

I returned

^ Mirtillo : evidently used as the name of a pastoral lover who has written a sonnet to
his love.

POMPIUA. 265

"It is not true I love my husband, — no,

Nor hate this man. I listen while you speak,

— Assured that what you say is false, the same : 11 55

Much as when once, to me a little child,

A rough gaunt man in rags, with eyes on fire,

A crowd of boys and idlers at his heels,

Rushed as I crossed the Square, and held my head

In his two hands, ^ Here ^s she will let me speak! 1 160

You little girl, whose eyes do good to mine,

I am the Pope, am Sextus, now the Sixth ;

And that Twelfth Innocent, proclaimed to-day,

Is Lucifer disguised in human flesh !

The angels met in conclave, crowned meP — thus 1 165

He gibbered and I Ibtened ; but I knew

All was delusion, ere folk interposed

< Unfasten him, the maniac! ^ Thus I know

All your report of Caponsacchi false.

Folly or dreaming; I have seen so much 11 70

By Uiat adventure at the spectacle,

The face I fronted that one first, last time :

He would belie it by such words and thoughts.

Therefore while you profess to show him me,

I ever see his own face. Get you gone! " 1175

" — That will I, nor once open mouth again, —

No, by Saint Joseph and the Holy Ghost!

On vour head be the damage, so adieu ! ^^

And so more days, more deeds I must forget,

Till . . . what a strange thing now is to declare! 11 80

Since I say anything, say all if true !

And how my life seems lengthened as to serve!

It may be idle or inopportune,

But, true ? — why, what was all I said but truth.

Even when I found that such as are untrue 11 85

Could only take the truth in through a lie?

Now — I am speaking truth to the Truth's self:

God will lend credit to my words this time.

It had got half through April, I arose

One vivid daybreak, — who had gone to bed 1 190

In the old way my wont those last three years.

Careless until, the cup drained, I should die.

The last sound in my ear, the over-night.

Had been a something let drop on the sly

In prattle by Margherita, " Soon enough 1195

Gaieties end, now Easter 's past : a week.

And the Archbishop gets him back to Rome, —

Every one leaves the town for Romci this Sprin^^ —

266 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Even Caponsacchi, out of heart and hope,

Resigns himself and follows with the flodc.^ laoo

I heard this drop and drop like rain outside

Fast-falling through the darkness while she spoke :

So had I heard with like indifference,

" And Michael's pair of wings will arrive first

At Rome, to introduce the company, 1205

And bear him from our picture where he fights

Satan, — expect to have that dragon loose

And never a defender! " — my sole thought

Being still, as night came, ^' Done, another day!

How good to sleep and so get nearer death! " — 1210

When, what, first thing at daybreak, pierced the sleep

With a summons to me ? Up I sprang alive.

Light in me, light without me, everywhere

Change! A broad yellow sunbeam was let fell

From heaven to earth, — a sudden drawbridge lay, 1215

Along which marched a myriad merry motes.

Mocking the flies that crossed them and recrossed

In rival dance, companions new-born too.

On the house-eaves, a dripping shag of weed

Shook diamonds on each dull gray lattice-square, 1220

As first one, then another bird leapt by.

And light was off, and lo was back again,

Always with one voice, — where are two such joys? —

The blessed building-sparrow! I stepped forth,

Stood on the terrace, — o'er the roofs, such sky! 1225

My heart sang, " I too am to go away,

I too have something I must care about.

Carry away with me to Rome, to Rome!

The bird brings hither sticks and hairs and wool,

And nowhere else i' the world ; what fly breaks rank, 1230

Falls out of the procession that befits.

From window here to window there, with all

The world to choose, — so well he knows his course?

I have my purpose and my motive too.

My marcn to Rome, like any bird or fly! 1235

Had I been dead! How right to be alive !

Last night I almost prayed for leave to die.

Wished Guido all his pleasure with the sword

Or the poison, — poison, sword, was but a trick,

Harmless, may God forgive him the poor jest! 1240

My life is charmed, will last till I reach Rome!

Yesterday, but for the sin, — ah, nameless be

The deed I could have dared against myself!

Now — see if I will touch an unripe fruit,

And risk the health I want to have and use! 1245

Not to live, now, would be the wickedness, —

POMPILIA. 267

For life means to make haste and go to Rome
And leave Arezzo, leave all woes at once! ^

Nowy understand here, bv no means mistake! / ^ '*^

Long a^o had I tried to leave that house 1250

When It seemed such procedure would stop sin ;

And still failed more the more I tried — at first

The Archbishop, as I told you, — next, our lord

The Governor, — indeed I found my way,

I went to the great palace where he rules, 1255

Though I knew well 't was he who, — when I gave

A jewel or two, themselves had given me.

Back to my parents, — since they wanted bread,

Thev who nad never let me want a nosegay, — he

SpoKe of the jail for felons, if they kept 1260

What was first theirs, then mine, so doubly theirs,

Though all the while my husband^s most of all!

I knew well who had spoke the word wrought this :

Yet, being in extremity, I fled

To the Governor, as I say, — scarce opened lip 1265

When — the cold cruel snicker close behind —

Guido was on my trace, already there.

Exchanging nod and wink for shrufi; and smile,

And I — pushed back to him and, for my pains

Paid with . . . but why remember what is past ? 1270

I sought out a poor friar the people call

The Roman, and confessed my sin which came

Of their sin, — that fact could not be repressed, —

The frightfiilness of my despair in God :

And, feeling, through the grate, his horror shake, 1275

Implored him, " Write for me who cannot write,

Apprise my parents, make them rescue me!

You bid me be courageous and trust God :

Do you in turn dare somewhat, trust and write

< Dear friends, who used to be my parents once, 1280

And now declare you have no part in me,

This is some riddle I want wit to solve.

Since you must love me with no difference.

Even suppose you altered, — there 's your hate,

To ask for : hate of you two dearest ones 1285

I shall find liker love than love found here.

If husbands love their wives. Take me away

And hate me as you do the gnats and fleas,

Even the scorpions ! How 1 shall rejoice ! '

Write that and save me!" And he promised — wrote 1290

Or did not write ; things never changed at all :

He was not like the Augustinian here!

Last, in a desperation I appealed

268 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

To friends, whoever wished me better days,

To Guillichini, that 's of kin, — " What, 1 — 1 295

Travel to Rome with you ? A flying gout

Bids me deny my heart and mind my leg! "

Then 1 tried Conti, used to brave— laugh back

The louring thunder when his cousin scowled

At me protected bv his presence : "You — 1300

Who well know what you cannot save me from, —

Carry me off! What frightens you, a priest?"

He shook his head, looked grave — * " Above my strength !

Guido has claws that scratch, shows feline teeth ;

A formidabler foe than I dare fret : 1305

Give me a dog to deal with, twice the size!

Of course I am a priest and Canon too.

But ... by the bye . . . though both, not quite so bold

As he, my fellow-Canon, brother-priest.

The personage in such ill odor here 13 10

Because of the reports — pure birth o' the brain!

Our Caponsacchi, he 's your true Saint George

To slay the monster, set the Princess free.

And have the whole High-Altar to himself;

I always think so when I see that piece 13 15

V the Pieve,^ that 's his church and mine, you know :

Though you drop eyes at mention of his name!"

That name had eot to take a half-grotesque

Half-ominous, wholly enigmatic sense.

Like any by-word, broken bit of song 1320

Born with a meaning, changed by mouth and mouth

That mix it in a sneer or smile, as chance

Bids, till it now means nought but ughness

And perhaps shame.

— All this intends to say, ^ -
That, over-night, the notion of escape 1325

Had seemed distemper, dreaming ; and the name, —
Not the man, but the name of him, thus made
Into a mockery and disgrace, — why, she
Who uttered it persistently, had laughed,
" I name his name, and there you start and wince 1330

As criminal from the red tongs' touch ! " — yet now.
Now, as I stood letting morn bathe me bright,
Choosing which butterfly should bear my news, —
The white, the brown one, or that tinier blue, —
The Margherita, I detested so, 1335

1 That piece V the Pieve : At the high altar is a picture by Vasari of Saint George killing
dragon.

POMPILfA. 369

In she came — " The fine day, the good Spring time!

What, up and out at window? That is best.

No thought of Caponsacchi? — who stood there

All night on one leg, like the sentry crane,

Under the pelting of your water-spout — 1340

Looked last look at your lattice ere he leave

Our city, bury his dead hope at Rome.

Ay, go to looking-glass and make you fine,

While he may die ere touch one least loose hair

You drag at with the comb in such a rage! ** 1345

I turned — " Tell Caponsacchi he may come! "

"Tell him to come? Ah, but, for charity,

A truce to fooling! Come ? What, — come this eve ?

Peter and Paul! But I see through the trick!

Yes, come, and take a flower-pot on his head, 1350

Flung from your terrace! No joke, sincere truth?"

How plainly I perceived hell flash and fade

O' the face of her, — the doubt that first paled joy,

Then, final reassurance I indeed

Was caught now, never to be free again! 1355

What did I care? — who felt myself of force

To play with silk, and spurn the horsehair-springe.

"But — do you know that I have bade him come,

And in your name? I presumed so much.

Knowing the thing you needed in your heart. 1360

But somehow — what had I to show in proof?

He would not come : half-promised, that was all,

And wrote the letters you refused to read.

What is the message tnat shall move him now?"

" After the Ave Maria, at first dark, 1365

I will be standing on the terrace, say! "

" I would I had a good long lock of hair
Should prove 1 was not lying! Never mind! "

Off" she went — "May he not refuse, that's all —
Fearing a trick!"

I answered, " He will come." 1370

And, all day, I sent prayer like incense up
To God the strong, God the beneficent,
God ever mindful in all strife and strait.
Who, for our own good, makes the need extreme^

270 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Till at the last He puts forth might and saves. 137^

An old rhyme came into my head and rang '

Of how a virgin, for the faith of God,

Hid herself, &om the Paynims that pursued,

In a cavers heart ; until a thunderstone,

Wrapped in a flame, revealed the couch and prey 1380

And they laughed — " Thanks to lightning, ours at last! ^ •

And she cried " Wrath of God, assert His love!

Servant of God, thou fire, befriend His child! "

And lo, the fire she grasped at, fixed its flash.

Lay in her hand a calm cold dreadful sword 1385

She brandished till pursuers strewed the ground.

So did the souls within them die away,

As o'er the prostrate bodies, sworded, safe.

She walked forth to the solitudes and Christ :

So should I grasp the lightning and be saved! 1390

And still, as the day wore, the trouble grew / • ^'

Whereby I guessed there would be bom a star,

Until at an mtense throe of the dusk,

I started up, was pushed, I dare to sav,

Out on the terrace, leaned and looked at last 1395

Where the deliverer waited me : the same

Silent and solemn face, I first descried

At the spectacle, confronted mine once more.

So was that minute twice vouchsafed me, so

The manhood, wasted then, was still at watch 1400

To save me yet a second time : no change

Here, though all else changed in the changing world!

1 spoke on the instant, as my duty bade.

In some such sense as this, whatever the phrase.

" Friend, foolish words were borne from you to me ; '\i ^ ^405

Your soul behind them is the pure strong wind.

Not dust and feathers which its breath may bear :

These to the witless seem the wind itself.

Since proving thus the first of it they feel.

If by mischance you blew offence my way, 1410

The straws are dropt, the wind desists no whit,

And how such strays were caught up in the street

And took a motion from you, why inquire ?

I speak to the strong soul, no weak disguise.

If it be truth, — why should I doubt it truth? — 141 5

You serve God specially, as priests are bound.

And care about me, stranger as I am.

So far as wish my good, — that miracle

POMPIUA. 271

I take to intimate He wills you serve

By saving me, — what else can He direct? 1420

Here is the service. Since a long while now,

I am in course of being put to death :

While death conccrnea nothing but me, I bowed

The head and bade, in heart, my husband strike.

Now I imperil something more, it seems, 1425

Something that^s trulier me than this myself,

Something I trust in God and you to save.

You go to Rome, they tell me : take me there,

Put me back with my people ! ^

He replied-^ - .'f

The first word I heard ever from his lips, 1430

All himself in it, — an eternity
Of speech, to match the immeasurable depth
O' the soul that then broke silence — " I am yours."

So did the star rise, soon to lead mv step,

Lead on, nor pause before it should stand still 1435

Above the House o' the Babe, — my babe to be.

That knew me first and thus made me know him,

That had his right of life and claim on mine.

And would not let me die till he was born,

But pricked me at the heart to save us both, 1440

Saying "Have you the will? Leave God the way! "

And the way was Caponsacchi — " mine," thank God!

He was mine, he is mine, he will be mine.

No pause i* the leading and the light! I know,

Next night there was a cloud came, and not he : 1445

But I prayed through the darkness till it broke

And let him shine. The second night, he came.

" The plan is rash ; the project desperate :

In such a flight needs must I risk your life,

Give food for fdsehood, folly or mistake, 1450

Ground for your husband's rancor and revenge" —

So he began again, with the same &ce.

I felt that, the same loyalty — one star

Turning now red that was so white before —

One service apprehended newly : just 1455

A word of mine and there the white was back!

" No, friend, for you will take me ! 'T is yourself

Risk all, not I, — who let you, for I trust

In the compensating great God: enough!

I know you : when is it that you will come ? " 1460

272 THE RING AI^D THE BOOK,

"To-morrow at the day's dawn." Then I heard

What I should do : how to prepare for flight

And where to fly. j ^J

That night my husband bade \
" — YoUy whom I loathe, beware you break my sleep
This whole night! Couch beside me like the corpse 1465

I would you were! " The rest you know, I think —
How I found Caponsacchi and escaped.

And this man, men call sinner? Jesus Christ!

Of whom men said, with mouths Thyself mad'st once,

" He hath a devil " — say he was Thy saint, 1470

My Caponsacchi! Shield and show — unshroud

In Thine own time the glory of the soul

If aught obscure, — if ink-spot, fropi vile pens

Scribbling a charge against him — (I was glad

Then, for the first time, that I could not write) — 1475

Flirted his way, have flecked the blaze!

For me, > '^
'T is otherwise : let men take, sift my thoughts

— Thoughts I throw like the flax for sun to bleach!
I did pray, do pray, in the prayer shall die,

" Oh, to have Caponsacchi for my guide! " 1480

Ever the fece upturned to mine, the hand

Holding my hand across the world, — a sense

That reads, as only such can read, the mark

God sets on woman, signifying so

She should — shall perad venture — be divine ; 1485

Yet 'ware, the while, how weakness mars the print

And makes confusion, leaves the thing men see,

— Not this man sees, — who from his soul, re-writes
The obliterated charter, — love and strength

Mending what 's marred. " So kneels a votarist, 1490

Weeds some poor waste traditionary plot

Where shrine once was, where temple yet may be.

Purging the place but worshipping the while.

By faith and not by sight, sight clearest so, —

Such way the saints work," — says Don Celestine. 1495

But I, not privileged to see a saint

Of old when such walked earth with crown and palm.

If I call " saint " what saints call something else —

The saints must bear with me, impute the fault

To a soul i' the bud, so starved by ignorance, 1500

Stinted of warmth, it will not blow this year

Nor recognize the orb which Spring-flowers know

But if meanwhile some insect with a heart

PQMPILIA. 373

Worth floods of lazy music, spendthrift joy—

Some fire-fly renounced Spring for my awarfed cup^ 1505

Crept close to me, brought lustre for the dark,

Comfort against the cold, — what though excess

Of comfof t should miscall the creature — sun ?

What did the sun to hinder while harsh hands

Petal by petal, crude and colorless, 15 10

Tore me? This one heart gave me all the Spring I

Is all told ? There ^s the journey : and where ^s time

To tell you how that heart burst out in shine?

Yet certain points do press on me too hard.

Each place must have a name, thoueh I forget : 15 15

How strange it was — there where the plain begins

And the small river mitigates its flow —

When eve was feiding fast, and my soul sank,

And he divined what surge of bitterness,

In overtaking me, would float me back 1520

Whence I was carried by the striding day —

So, — " This gray place was famous once," said he —

And he began that legend of the place

As if in answer to. the unspoken fear.

And told me all about a brave man dead, 1525

Which lifted me and let my soul go on I

How did he know too, — at that town's approach

By the rock-side, — that in coming near the signs

Of life, the house-roofs and the church and tower,

I saw the old boundary and wall o' the world 1530

Rise plain as ever round me, hard and cold.

As if the broken circlet joined again,

Tightened itself about me with no break, —

As if the town would turn Arezzo's self, —

The husband there, — the friends my enemies, 1535

All ranged against me, not an avenue

To try, but would be blocked and drive me back

On him, — this other, ... oh the heart in that!

Did not he find, bring, put into my arms

A new-born babe ? — and I saw faces beam 1540

Of the young mother proud to teach me joy,

And gossips round expecting my surprise

At the sudden hole through earth that lets in heaven.

I could believe himself by his strong will

Had woven around me what I thought the world 1545

We went along in, every circumstance,

Towns, flowers and faces, all things helped so well !

For, through the journey, was it natural

Such comfort should arise from first to last?

As I look back, all is one milky way ; 1550

Still bettered more, the more remembered, so

274 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Do new stars bud while I but search for old.

And fill all gaps T the glorv^ and grow him —

Him I now see make the snine everywhere.

Even at the last when the bewildered fiesh, 1555

The cloud of weariness about my soul

Clog|;ing too heavily, sucked down all sense, —

Still Its last voice was, '^ He will watch and care ;

Let the strength go, I am content : he stays! ^*

I doubt not he did stay and care for ail — 1560

From that sick minute when the head swam round,

And the eyes looked their last and died on him.

As in his arms he caught me, and, you say,

Carried me in, that tragical red eve.

And laid me where I next returned to life 1565

In the other red of morning, two red plates

That crushed together, crushed the time between,

And are since then a solid fire to me, —

When in, my dreadful husband and the world

Broke, — and I saw him, master, by hell's right, 1570

And saw my angel helplessly held back

By guards that helped the malice — the lamb prone,

The serpent towering and triumphant — then

Came all the strength back in a sudden swell,

I did for once see nght, do right, give tongue 1575

The adequate protest : for a worm must turn

If it would have its wrong observed by God.

I did spring up, attempt to thrust aside

That ice-block Hwixt the sun and me, lay low

The neutralizer of all good and truth. 1580

If I sinned so, — never obey voice more

O' the Just and Terrible, who bids us — " Bear! "

Not — " Stand by, bear to see my angels bear! "

I am clear it was on impulse to serve God

Not save myself, — no — nor my child unborn! 1585

Had I else waited patiently till now ? —

Who saw my old kind parents, silly-sooth

And too much trustful, for their worst of faults.

Cheated, brow-beaten, stripped and starved, cast out

Into the kennel: I remonstrated, 1590

Then sank to silence, for, — their woes at end.

Themselves gone, — only I was left to plague.

If only I was threatened and belied.

What matter? I could bear it and did bear;

It was a comfort, still one lot for all : 1595

They were not persecuted for my sake

And I, estranged, the single happy one.

But when at last, all by mvself I stood

Obeying the clear voice wnich bade me rise,

POMPILIA. 275

Not for my own sake but my babe unborn, 1600

And take the anerePs hand was sent to help —

And found the old adversary athwart the path —

Not my hand simply struck from the angePs, but

The very angePs self made foul i^ the face

By the nend who struck there, — that I would not bear, 1605

That only I resisted! So, my first

And last resistance was invincible.

Prayers move God ; threats, and nothing else, move men!

I must have prayed a man as he were God

When I implored the Governor to right 1610

My parents^ wrongs : the answer was a smile.

Tne Archbishop, — did I clasp his feet enough.

Hide my face hotly on them, while I told

More than I dared make my own mother know ?

The profit was — compassion and a jest. 161 5

This time, the foolish prayers were aone with, right

Used might, and solemnized the sport at once.

All was against the combat : vantage, mine?

The runaway avowed, the accomplice-wife,

In company with* the plan-contriving priest ? 1620

Yet, shame thus rank and patent, I struck, bare,

At foe from head to foot in magic mail,

And off it withered, cobweb-armory

Against the lightning;! Twas truth singed the lies

And saved me, not the vain sword nor weak speech! 1625

You see, I will not have the service fail! ^ \*.^ ^

I say, the angel saved me : I am safe !

Others may want and wish, I wish nor want

One point o' the circle plainer, where I stand

Traced round about with white to front the world. 1630

What of the calumny I came across,

What o' the way to the end? — the end crowns all.

The judges judged aright i' the main, gave me

The uttermost of my heart's desire, a truce

From torture and Arezzo, balm for hurt, 1635

With the quiet nuns, — God recompense the good!

Who said and sang away the ugly past.

And, when my final fortune was revealed.

What safety while, amid my parents' arms,

My babe was given me! Yes, he saved my babe : 1640

It would not have peeped forth, the bird-like thing,

Through that Arezzo noise and trouble : back

Had it returned nor ever let me see!

But the sweet peace cured all, and let me live

And give my bird the life among the leaves 1645

God meant him! Weeks and months of quietude,

276 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

I could lie in such peace and learn so much —

Begin the task, I see how needful now,

Of understanding somewhat of my past, —

Know life a little, I should leave so soon. 1650

Therefore, because this man restored my soul.

All has been right ; I have gained my gain, enjoyed

As well as suffered, — nay, got foretaste too

Of better life beginning where this ends —

All through the breath mg-while allowed me thus, 1655

Which let good premonitions reach my soul

Unthwarted, and benignant influence flow

And interpenetrate and change my heart,

Uncrossed by what was wicked, — nay, unkind.

For, as the weakness of my time drew nigh, 1660

Nobody did me one disservice more,

Spoke coldly or looked strangely, broke the love

I lay in the arms of, till my boy was born.

Born all in love, with nought to spoil the bliss

A whole long fortnight : in a life like mine 1665

A fortnight filled with bliss is long and much.

All women are not mothers of a boy,

Though they live twice -the length of my whole life,

And, as they fancy, happily all the same.

There I lay, then, all my great fortnight long, 1670

As if it woidd continue, broaden out

Happily more and more, and lead to heaven :

Christmas before me, — was not that a chance ?

I never realized God's birth before —

How He grew likest God in being born. 1675

This time I felt like Mary, had my babe

Lying a little on my breast like hers.

So all went on till, just four days ago —

The night and the tap. ^.

Oh it shall be success '
To the whole of our poor family! My friends 1680

. . . Nay, father and mother, — give me back my word !
They have been rudely stripped of life, disgraced
Like children who must needs go clothed too fine.
Carry the garb of Carnival in Lent.

If they too much affected frippery, 1685

They have been punished and submit themselves.
Say no word : all is over, they see God
Who will not be extreme to mark their fault
Or He had granted respite : they are safe.

For that most woeful man my husband once, ^ 1 690

Who, needing respite, still draws vital breath,

POAfPIUA. ^77

I — pardon him ? So far as lies in me,

I give him for his good the life he takes.

Praying the world will therefore acquiesce.

Let him make God amends, — none, none to me 1695

Who thank him rather that, whereas strane^e fate

Modcinely styled him husband and me wite,

Himself this way at least pronounced divorce,

Blotted the marriage-bond : this blood of mine

Flies forth exultingly at an^ door, 1700

Washes the parchment white, and thanks the blow.

We shall not meet in this world nor the next.

But where will God be absent? In His face

Is li^ty but in His shadow healing too :

Let Guido touch the shadow and be healed! 170$

And as my presence was importunate, —

My earthly good, temptation and a snare, —

Nothing about me but drew somehow down

His hate upon me, — somewhat so excused

Therefore, since hate was thus the truth of him, — 1710

May my evanishment for evermore

Help farther to relieve the heart that cast

Such object of its natural loathing forth !

So he was made ; he nowise made himself:

I could not love him, but his mother did. 171 5

His soul has never lain beside my soul :

But for the unresisting body, — thanks !

He burned that garment spotted by the flesh.

Whatever he touched is rightly ruined : plague

It caught, and disinfection it had craved 1720

Still but for Guido ; I am saved through him

So as by fire ; to him — thanks and farewell !

Even for my babe, my boy, there 's safety thence —

From the sudden death of me, I mean : we poor

Weak souls, how we endeavor to be strong! 1725

I was already using up my life, —

This portion, now, should do him such a good,

This other go to keep off such an ill !

The great life ; see, a breath and it is gone!

So is detached, so left all by itself 1730

The little life, the fact which means so much.

Shall not God stoop the kindlier to His work,

His marvel of creation, foot would crush.

Now that the hand He trusted to receive

And hold it, lets the treasure fall perforce? 1735

The better ; He shall have in orphanage

His own way all the clearlier : if my babe

Outlived the hour — and he has lived two weeks —

278 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

It is through God who knows I am not by.

Who is it makes the soft gold hair turn blacky 1740

And sets the tongue, mieht lie so long at rest.

Tiring to talk? Let us leave God alone!

Why should I doubt He will explain in time

What I feel now, but fail to find the words?

My babe nor was, nor is, nor vet shall be 1745

Count Guido Franceschini^s child at all —

Only his mother^ born of love not hate!

So shall I have my rights in after-time.

It seems absurd, impossible to-da^ ;

So seems so much else, not explained but known! 1750

Ah! Friends, I thank and bless you every one!
No more now : I withdraw from earth and man
To my own soul, compose myself for God.

Well, and there is more ! Yes, my end of breath

Shall bear away my soul in being true! 1755

He is still here, not outside with the world,

Here, here, I have him in his rightful place!

'T is now, when I am most upon the move,

I feel for what I verily find — again

The face, again the eyes, again, through all, 1760

The heart and its immeasurable love

Of my one friend, my only, all my own.

Who put his breast between the spears and me.

Ever with Caponsacchi ! Otherwise

Here alone would be failure, loss to me — 1765

How much more loss to him, with life debarred

From giving life, love locked from love's display.

The day-star stopped its task that makes night mom!

0 lover of my life, O soldier-saint,

No work begun shall ever pause for death! 1770

Love will be helpful to me more and more

r the coming course, the new path I must tread —

My weak hand in thy strong hand, strong for that!

Tell him that if I seem without him now.

That 's the world's insight ! Oh, he understands! 1775

He is at Civita — do I once doubt

The world again is holding us apart ?

He had been here, displayed in my behalf

The broad brow that reverberates the truth,

And flashed the word God gave him, back to man! 1780

1 know where the free soul is flown! My fate
Will have been hard for even him to bear :
Let it confirm him in the trust of God,
Showing how holily he dared the deed!

POAfPlLlA. 279

And, for the rest, — say, from the deed, no touch 1785

Of harm came, but all good, all happiness.

Not one faint fleck of failure! Why explain?

What I see, oh, he sees and how much more!

Tell him, — I know not wherefore the true word

Should fade and fall unuttered at the last — 1790

It was the name of him I sprang to meet

When came the knock, the summons and the end.

^ My great heart, my strong hand are back again! ^^

I womd have sprung to these, beckoning across

Murder and hell gigantic and distinct 1795

O^ the threshold, posted to exclude me heaven :

He is ordained to call and I to come!

Do not the dead wear flowers when dressed for God?

Say, — I am all in flowers A-om head to foot!

Say, — Not one flower of all he said and did, 1800

Might seem to flit unnoticed, fade unknown,

But dropped a seed, has grown a balsam-tree

Whereof the blossoming perfumes the place

At this supreme of moments! He is a priest ;

He cannot marry therefore, which is right : 1805

I think he would not marry if he could.

Marriage on earth seems such a counterfeit,

Mere imitation of the inimitable :

In heaven we have the real and true and sure.

T is there they neither marry nor are given 1 8 10

In marriage but are as the angels : right,

Oh how nght that is, how like Jesus Christ

To say that! Marriage-making for the earth.

With gold so much, — birth, power, repute so much,

Or beauty, youth so much, in lack of these! 181 5

Be as the angels rather, who, apart,

Know themselves into one, are found at length

Married, but marry never, no, nor give

In marriage ; they are man and wife at once

When the true time is : here we have to wait 1820

Not so long neither! Could we by a wish

Have what we will and get the future now,

Would we wish aught done undone in the past ?

So, let him wait God's instant men call years ;

Meantime hold hard by truth and his great soul, 1825

Do out the duty! Through such souls alone

God stooping shows sufficient of His light

For us i' the dark to rise by. And I rise.

28o THE RING AND THE BOOK.

VIIL
DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS,

PAUPERUM PROCURATOR,!

[Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis regards the great Franceschini case
simply as a fortunate chance for him to show off his superior skill as a lawyer, and
thereby discomfit his rival, the Fisc. While his head is occupied in preparing
what he considers a learned defence in support of the right of wounded honor to
vindicate itself, based upon precedents drawn from animal life, and from Pagan and
Christian custom, his heart is entirely occupied with his own domestic felicities.]

Ah, my Giacinto, he ^s no ruddy rogue,

Is not Cinone?^ What, to-day we're eight?

Seven and one 's eight, I hope, old curly-pate I

— Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,

Amo -as -avi -atum -are -ans, 5

Up to -aturusy person, tense, and mood,

Quit^ me cum subjunctivo ' (I could cry)

And chews Corderius^ with his morning crust!

Look eight years onward, and he 's perched, he ^s perched

Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair, lo

Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?

— Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate ^ fiill soon

To smooth Papinianian ^ pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now, 15

Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!

— The proverb bids. And " then " means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,

Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own, 20

That makes gruff January grin perforce!

For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth

^ Pauperum Procurator : the official de- construed with ' branches ' ^ giTcs me the rule

fender of criminals, as the "Fisc" is the ol qui with the subjunctive." Probably a

official prosecutor. punning quip, both ideas being in mind.

* Cinone : a pet diminutive of Giacinto, as * Corderius : Mathurin Cordier, author of
are Cinozzo, Cinoncello, Cinino, and various the most popular Latin school-book of the
other forms occurring in this Book. sixteenth century, the " Colloquia Scholas-

• Quies me cum subjunctivo : a truce with tica."

the subjunctive. Or, Prof. Corson explains, ** Triturate : grind down.

** the relative qui (in Italics) is used as a verb " Papinianian : from Papinius, a Roman

with English verb-ending 'es' (in Roman), *)uml ol \.Yv« b^^ninf^ of the third century.

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS, a8i

Escaping from so many hearts at once —

When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,

Jokes the hale grandsire, — such are just the sort 25

To go off suddenly, — he who hides the key

O' the box beneath his pillow every night, —

Which box may hold a parchment (some one thinks)

Will show a scribbled something like a name

" Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end, 30

To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,

Estates, tenements, hereditaments,

When I decease as honest grandsire ought. ^^

Wherefore — yet this one time again perhaps —

ShanH my Orvieto ^ fuddle his old nose! 35

Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,

May — drop in, merely? — trudge through rain and wind.

Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint

There 's cookery in a certain dwelling-place !

Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke, 40

Will pidc the way, thrid lane by lantern-light.

And so find door, put galli^kin ^ off

At entry of a decent domicile

Cornered in snug Condotti,' — all for love,

All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well, 45

Let others dimb the heights o^ the court, the camp!
How vain are chambering and wantonness.
Revel and rout and pleasures that make mad !
Commend me to home-joy, the family board.
Altar and hearth! These, with a brisk career, 50

A source of honest profit and good fame.
Just so much work as keeps the brain from rust.
Just so much play as lets the heart expand.
Honoring God and serving man, — I say.
These are reality, and all else, — fluff, 55

Nutshell and nought, — thank Flaccus^ for the phrase!
Suppose I had been Fisc, yet bachelor!

Why, work with a will, then! Wherefore lazy now?

Turn up the hour-glass, whence no sand-grain slips

But should have done its duty to the saint 60

O' the day, the son and heir that 's eight years old !

Let law come dimple Cinoncino^s cheek.

And Latin dumple Cinarello^s chin,

^ Orvieto: a rich wine. * Condotti : a street which runs off the

* Galligaskin : large hose or trousers, evi- Q>rso.
dently from the context worn as an outer pro- * Flaccus : Horace, " Satires," ii. 5, 35,
tnction. guassa nMce^ a proverbial expression for

something \^Q(thles§.

282 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

The while we spread him fine and toss him flat

This pulp that makes the pancake, trim our mass 65

Of matter into Argument the First,

Prime Pleading in defence of our accused,

Which, once a-waft on paper wing, shall soar,

Shall signalize befofe applausive Rome

What study, and mayhap some mother-wit, 70

Can do toward making Master fop and Fisc

Old bachelor Bottinius bite his thumb.

Now, how good God is! How falls plumb to point

This murder, gives me Guido to defend

Now, of all days i' the year, just when the boy 75

Verges on Virgil, reaches the right a^e

For some such illustration from his sire,

Stimulus to himself! One mi^ht wait years

And never find the chance which now finds me!

The fact is, there ^s a blessing on the hearth, 80

A special providence for fatherhood!

Here ^s a man, and what ^s more, a noble, kills

— Not sneakingly but almost with parade —
Wife's father and wife's mother and wife's self

That's mother's self of son and heir (like mine!) 85

— And here stand I, the favored advocate,

Who pluck this flower o' the field, no Solomon

Was ever clothed in glorious gold to match.

And set the same in Cinoncino's cap!

I defend Guido and his comrades — I ! 90

Pray God, I keep me humble : not to me —

Non nobis ^ Domine^ sed tibi lausl

How the fop chuckled when they made him Fisc!

We '11 beat you, my Bottinius, all for love.

All for our tribute to Cinotto's day. 95

Why, *sbuddikins, old Innocent himself

May rub his eyes at the bustle, — ask " What 's this

Rolling from out the rostrum, as a gust

O* the Pro Milone ^ had been prisoned there.

And rattled Rome awake ? " Awaken Rome, 100

How can the Pope doze on in decency?

He needs must wake up also, speak his word.

Have his opinion like the rest of Rome,

About this huge, this hurly-burly case :

He wants who can excogitate the truth, 105

Give the result in speech, plain black and white.

To mumble in the mouth and make his own

— A little changed, good man, a little changed!

^ Non nobis J etc. : not unto us, O Lord, ' Pro Milone : Cicero's great speech in
hut to thee the praise. defence of Milo on a charge of murder.

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 283

No matter, so his ^titude be moved,

By when my Giaantino gets of age, 1 10

Mindful of who thus helped him at a pinch,

Archangelus Procurator Pauperum —

And proved Hortensius ^ Reaivivusl

Whew!
. To earn the Est-est^ merit the minced herb
That mollifies the liver's leathery slice, 11^

With here a goose-foot, there a cock^s-comb stuck.
Cemented in an element of cheese!
I doubt if dainties do the ^randsire good :
Last June he had a sort of stranding . . . bah!
He ^s his own master, and his wm is made. 120

So, liver fizz, law flit and Latin fly
As we rub hands o'er dish by way of grace!
May I lose cause if I vent one word more
Except, — with fi*esh-cut quill we ink the white, —
P-r-o-^o Guidone et Sociis^ There! 125

Count Guido married — or, in Latin due.

What ? Duxit in uxor em / * — commonplace !

Tadasjugales iniit, subiity — ha!

He underwent the matrimonial torch ?

Connubio stabili sibijunxit, — hum ! 1 30

In stable bond of marriage bound his own?

That ^s clear of any modem taint : and yet . . .

Virgil is little help to who writes prose.

He shall attack me Terence with the dawn.

Shall Cinuccino! Mum, mind business, Sir! 135

Thus circumstantially evolve we facts,

It a se habet ideo series facti:

He wedded, — ah, with owls * for augury!

Nufiseraty heu simstris avibus^

One of the blood Arezzo boasts her best, 140

Dominus Guido ^ nobili genere ortusy

Pompilice . . .

But the version afterward!
Curb we this ardor! Notes alone, to-day,

^ Hortensius : the great Roman orator, ^ Duxit in uxorem : as Browning gives

contemporary with Cicero. a free version of most of the Latin used by

> £st-est : a wine so called because a noble- Archangelis in his defence, literal translations

man once sent his servant in advance to write are omitted from the notes. Only where no

"Est," it is! on any inn where the wine was hint of the meaning can be gained from the

particularly good. At one inn it was so text, will a translation be given,
superlatively good that he wrote Est-est. ^ Owls for augury : the owl was con*

* Pro Guidone et Sociis : for Guido and sidered a bird of evil omen.
bis associates.

284 ^^^ ^^^G ^^^ ^^^ BOOK.

The speech to-morrow and the Latin last :

Such was the rule in Farinacci^s ^ time. 145

Indeed I hitched it into verse and good.

Unluckily, law quite absorbs a man.

Or else 1 think 1 too had poetized.

" Law is the pork substratum of the fry,

Goose-foot and cock's-comb are Latinity," — 150

And in this case, if circumstance assist.

We '11 garnish law with idiom, never fear!

Out-of-the-way events extend our scope :

For instance, when Bottini brings his charge,

" That letter which you say Pompilia wrote, — 155

To criminate her parents and herself

And disengage her husband from the coil, —

That, Guido Franceschini wrote, say we :

Because Pompilia could nor read nor write.

Therefore he pencilled her such letter first, 160

Then made her trace in ink the same again.^^

— Ha, my Bottini, have I thee on hip ?

How will he turn this and break Tully's pate?

" Existimandum'^^ (don't I hear the dog!)

" Quod Guido designaverit element a 165

Dicta efiistolcBy qua fuerint

(Superinducto ab ea calatnd)

Notata atramento " — there 's a style ! —

" Quia ipsa scribere nesciebaty Boh !

Now, my turn! Either, Insulse!^ (I outburst) 170

Stupidly put! Inane is the response,

Inanis est responsiOy or the like —

To wit, that each of all those characters.

Quod singula elementa efiistolcBj

Had first of all been traced for her by him, 175

Fuerant per eum prius designata.

And then, the ink applied a-top of that,

Et deinde^ superinducto calamoy

The piece, she says, became her handiwork,

Per earn, efformata ut ipsa asserit, 180

Inane were such response! (a second time : )

Her husband outlined her the whole, forsooth?

Vir ejus lineabat epistolam f

What, she confesses that she wrote the thing,

Fatetur earn scripsisse^ (scorn that scathes!) 185

That she might pay obedience to her lord?

Ut viro obtentperaret, apices

(Here repeat charge with proper varied phrase)

Eo designante, ipsaque calamum

* Farinacci: see note, VIII. 333. * Insulse : abiurd.

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 285

Super inducentef By such argument, 190

Ita pariteTy she seeks to show the same,

(Ay, bv Saint Joseph and what samts you please)

Epistciam ostendity medius fidiusj

No voluntary deed but fruit of force!

N&H volufitarU sed coacte scriptam I 195

That's the way to write Latin, friend my Fisc!

Bottini is a beast, one barbarous :

Look out for him when he attempts to say

** Armed with a pistol, Guido followed her! "

Will not I be beforehand with my Fisc, aoo

Cut away phrase by phrase from underfoot!

Guido Pompiliam — Guido thus his wife

Following with igneous engine, shall I have ?

Armis munitus igneis persequens —

Arma suiphurea gestans, sulphury arms, 205

Or, might one style a pistol — popping-piece?

Armaius breviori schpulo f

We '11 let him have been armed so, though it make

Somewhat against us : I had thought to own —

Provided with a simple travelling-sword, 210

Ense solummodo viatorio

Instrucius: but we'll grant the pistol here :

Better we lost the cause than lacked the gird

At the Fisc's Latin, lost the Judge's laugh!

It's Venturini that decides for style. 215

Tommati rather goes upon the law.

So, as to law, —

Ah, but with law ne'er hope
To level the fellow, — don't I know his trick !
How he draws up, ducks under, twists aside!
He 's a lean-gutted hectic rascal, fine 220

As pale-haired red -eyed ferret which pretends
'Tis ermine, pure soft snow from tail to snout.
He eludes law by piteous looks aloft,
Lets Latin glance off as he makes appeal
To saint that's somewhere in the ceiling-top : 225

Do you suppose I don't conceive the beast ?
Plague of the ermine-vermin! For it takes.
It takes, and here 's the fellow Fisc, you see,
And Judge, you'll not be long in seeing next!
Confound the fop — he 's now at work like me : 230

Enter his study, as I seem to do,
Hear him read out his writing to himself!
I know he writes as if he spoke : I hear
The hoarse shrill throat, see shut eyes, neck shot-forth,
— I see him strain on tiptoe, soar and pour "i.^^

286 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Eloquence out, nor stay nor stint at all —

Perorate in the air, then quick to press

With the product! What abuse of type and sheet!

He '11 keep clear of my cast, my logic-throw,

Let ar£;ument slide, and then deliver swift 240

Some bowl from quite an unguessed point of stand —

Having the luck o' the last word, the reply!

A plaguy cast, a mortifying stroke :

You face a fellow — cries " So, there you stand?

But I discourteous jump clean o'er your head! 245

You take ship-carpentry for pilotage.

Stop rat-holes, while a sea sweeps through the breach, —

Hammer and fortify at puny points?

Do, clamp and tenon, make all tight and safe!

'T is here and here and here you ship a sea, 250

No good of your stopped leaks and littleness! "

Yet what do I name 'Mittle and a leak'^?

The main defence o' the murder's used to death,

By this time, dry bare bones, no scrap we pick :

Safer I worked the new, the unforeseen, 255

The nice by-stroke, the fine and improvised

Point that can titillate the brain o' the Bench

Torpid with over-teaching, long ago!

As if Tommati (that has heard, reheard

And heard a^ain, first this side and then that — 260

Guido and Pietro, Pietro and Guido, din

And deafen, full three years, at each long ear)

Don't want amusement for instruction now,

Won't rather feel a flea run o'er his ribs,

Than a daw settle heavily on his head! 265

Oh I was young and had the trick of fence.

Knew subtle pass and push with careless right —

My left arm ever quiet behind back.

With dagger ready : not both hands to blade!

Puff and blow, put the strength out, Blunderbore! 270

There 's my subordinate, young Spreti, now.

Pedant and prig, — he '11 pant away at proof.

That 's his way!

Now for mine — to rub some life
Into one's choppy fingers this cold day!

I trust Cinuzzo ties on tippet, guards 275

The precious throat on which so much depends!
Guido must be all goose-flesh in his hole,
Despite the prison-straw : bad Carnival
For captives! no sliced fry for him, poor Count!

DOMimiS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGELIS, 287

Carnival-time, — another providence ! 280

The town a-swarm with strangers to amuse,

To edify, to give one^s name and fiame

In charge of, till they find, some future day,

Cintino come and claim it, his name too.

Pledge of the pleasantness they owe papa — 285

Who else was it cured Rome of her ^at qualms.

When she must needs have her own judgment? — ay.

When all her topping wits had set to work.

Pronounced already on the case : mere boys.

Twice Cineruegiolo^s age with half his sense, 290

As good as tell me, when I cross the court,

"Master Arcangeli!" (plucking at my gown)

" We can predict, we comprehend your plav,

We'll help you save your client." Tra-la-la!

I Ve travelled ground, from childhood to this hour, 295

To have the town anticipate my track ?

The old fox takes the plain and velvet path,

The young hound's predilection, — prints the dew,

Don't he, to suit their pulpy pads of paw?

No! Burying nose deep down i' the briery bush, 300

Thus I defend Count Guido.

Where are we weak?
First, which is foremost in advantage too.
Our murder, — we call, killing, — is a fact
Confessed, defended, made a boast of: good!
To think the Fisc claimed use of torture here, 305

And got thereby avowal plump and plain
That gives me just the chance I wanted, — scope
Not for brute-force but ingenuity,
Explaining matters, not denying them I

One may dispute, — as I am bound to do, 310

And shall, — validity of process here :
Inasmuch as a noble is exempt
From torture which plebeians undergo
In such a case : for law is lenient, lax,

Remits the torture to a nobleman 315

Unless suspicion be of twice the strength
Attaches to a man born vulgarly :
We don't card silk with comb that dresses wool.
Moreover 't was severity undue

In this case, even had the lord been lout. 320

What utters, on this head, our oracle,
Our Farinacci,^ my Gamaliel ^ erst,

^ Farinacci : Prosper Farinacci (1544- seventeenth century. In 1599 he defended

16x3), auth<»' of a volume of " Variae Quaes- Beatrice Cenci on the charge of murdering

tiones '* and other legal treatises, which were her father,

regarded as of very high authority during the * GamaUtl : see Acts xxii. 3.

288 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

In those immortal " Questions "? This I quote :

<< Of all the tools at Law^s disposal, sure

That named Vigiliarum is the best — 325

That is, the worst — to whoso needs must bear :

Lasting, as it may do, from some seven hours

To ten ; (beyond ten, we've no precedent ;

Certain have touched their ten, but, bah, they died!)

It does so efficaciously convince, 330

That, — speaking by much observation here, —

Out of each hundred cases, by my count.

Never I knew of patients beyond four

Withstand its taste, or less than ninety-six

End by succumbing : only martyrs four, 335

Of obstinate silence, guilty or no, — against

Ninety-six full confessors, innocent

Or otherwise, — so shrewd a tool have we!

No marvel either : in unwary hands.

Death on the spot is no rare consequence : 340

As indeed all but happened in this case

To one of ourselves, our young tough peasant-friend

The accomplice called Baldeschi : they were rough,

Dosed him with torture as you drench a horse,

Not modify your treatment to a man : 345

So, two successive days he fainted dead.

And only on the third essay, gave up.

Confessed like flesh and blood. We could reclaim, —

Blockhead Bottini giving cause enough !

But no, — we '11 take it as spontaneously 350

Confessed : we '11 have the murder beyond doubt.

Ah, fortunate (the poet's word^ reversed)

Inasmuch as we know our happiness!

Had the antagonist left dubiety ,2

Here were we proving murder a mere myth, 355

And Guido innocent, ienorant, absent, — ay,

Absent! He was — why, where should Christian be?

Engaged in visiting his proper church,

The duty of us all at Christmas-time,

When Caponsacchi, the seducer, stung 360

To madness by his relegation, cast

About him and contrived a remedy

In murder : since opprobrium broke afresh.

By birth o' the babe, on him the imputed sire.

He it was quietly sought to smother up 365

His shame and theirs together, — killed the three,

And fled — (go seek him where you please to search)

Just at the time when Guido, touched by grace,

* The poefs word: see Virgil, "Geor- * Dubiety : doubtfulness.
S^cs,** ii. 458.

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS, 289

Devotions ended, hastened to the spot,

Meaning to pardon his convicted wife, 370

" Neither do I condemn thee, go in peace ! " —

And thus arrived i' the nick of time to catch

The charee o' the killing, though great-heartedly

He came but to forgive and bnng to life.

Doubt ye the force of Christmas on the soul ? 375

" Is thine eye evil because mine is good?"

So, doubtless, had I needed argue here

But for the full confession round and sound !

Thus might you wrone some kingly alchemist, —

Whose concern should not be with showing brass 380

Transmuted into gold, but triumphing,

Rather, about his gold chaneed out of brass.

Not vulfi;arly to the mere sight and touch,

But in tne idea, the spiritu^ display.

The apparition buoyed by winged words 385

Hovering above its birth-place in the brain, —

Thus would you wrong this excellent personage

Forced, by the gross need, to gird apron round,

Plant forge, light fire, ply bellows, — in a word,

Demonstrate : when a faulty pipkin^s crack 390

May disconcert you his presumptive truth !

Here were I hanging to the testimony

Of one of these poor rustics — four, ye gods!

Whom the first taste of friend the Fisc^'s cord

May drive into undoing my whole speech, 395

Undoing, on his birthday, — what is worse, —

My son and heir!

I wonder, all the same.
Not so much at those peasants^ lack of heart ;
But — Guido Francescnini, nobleman.

Bear pain no better! Everybody knows 400

It used once, when my father was a boy,
To form a proper, nay, important point
V the education of our well-born youth.
That they took torture handsomely at need,
Without confessing in this clownish guise. 405

Each noble had his rack for private use.
And would, for the diversion of a guest,
Bid it be set up in the yard of arms.
And take thereon his hour of exercise, —
Command the varletry stretch, strain their best, 410

While friends looked on, admired my lord could smile
*Mid tugging which had caused an ox to roar.
Men are no longer men!

— And advocates

u

290 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

No longer Farinacci, let us add.

If I one more time fly from point proposed! 415

So, Vindication — here begins the speech! —

Honoris causa ; thus we make our stand :

Honor in us had injury, we prove:

Or if we fciil to prove such injury

More than misprision of the fact, — what then? 420

It is enough, authorities declare,

If the result, the deed in question now,

Be caused by confidence that injury

Is veritable and no figment : since.

What, though proved fancy afterward, seemed hd 425

At the time, they argue shall excuse result.

That which we do, persuaded of good cause

For what we do, hold justifiable! — ^

So casuists bid : man, bound to do his best.

They would not have him leave that best undone 430

And mean to do his worst, — though fuller light

Show best was worst and worst would have been best.

Act by the present light! — the^ ask of man.

C/ifra quod hie non agitur, besides.

It is not anyway our ousiness here, 435

De probatione adulteriiy

To prove what we thought crime was crime indeed

Ad irrogandam poenam^ and require

Its punishment : such nowise do we seek :

Sed ad effectum^ but \ is our concern, 440

Excusandiy here to simply find excuse,

Occisorem, for who did the killing-work,

Et ad illius defensionem^ (mark

The difference) and defend the man, just that!

Quo casu levior probatio 445

Exuberaret^ to which end far lighter proof

Suffices than the prior case would claim :

It should be always harder to convict,

In short, than to establish innocence.

Therefore we shall demonstrate first of all 450

That Honor is a gift of God to man

Precious beyond compare : which natural sense

Of human rectitude and purity, —

Which white, man's soul is bom with, — brooks no touch :

Therefore, the sensitivest spot of all, 455

Wounded by any wafture breathed from black,

Is, — honor within honor, — like the eye

Centred i' the ball, — the honor of our wife.

Touch us o' the pupil of our honor, then.

Not actually, — since so you slay outright, — 460

But by a gesture simulating touch,

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 291

Presumable mere menace of such taint, —
This were our warrant for eruptive ire
^To whose dominion I impose no end/*^

(Virgil, now, should not be too difficult 465

To Cinoncino, — say, the early books.
Pen, truce to further gambols! Poscimur! ^

Nor can revenge of injury done here

To the honor proved the life and soul of us.

Be too excessive, too extravagant : 476

Such wrong seeks and must have complete revenge.

Show we this, first, on the mere natural ground :

Begin at the beginning and proceed

Incontrovertibly. Theodoric,

In an apt sentence Cassiodorus * cites, 475

Propounds for basis of all household law —

I hardly recollect it, but it ends,

^ Bird mates with bird, beast genders with his like.

And brooks no interference.^^ Bird and beast?

The very insects ... if they wive or no, 480

How dare I say when Aristotle * doubts ?

But the presumption is thev likewise wive.

At least the nobler sorts ; for take the bee

As instance, — copying King Solomon, —

Why that displeasure of the bee to aught 485

Which savors of incontinency, makes

The unchaste a very horror to the hive?

Whence comes it bees obtain their epithet

Of castcB apes, notably " the chaste " ?

Because, ingeniously saith Scalieer,^ 490

(The young saee, — see his book of Table-talk)

^ Such is their hatred of immodest act.

They fall upon the offender, sting to death."

I mind a passage much confirmative

r the Idyllist * (though I read him Latinized) 495

** Why " asks a shepherd, " is this bank unfit

For celebration of our vernal loves ? "

* To whose dominiont etc. : " His ego nee * A ristotle : celebrated Greek writer on
metas rerum nee tempera pono; Imperium philosophy, ethies, physics, etc., 384-323 B.C.
sine fine dedi" (Virgil, "^neid," L 278, 279). » Scaliger : Joseph Justice, son of Julius

* Poscimur : something is expected of its. Caesar Scaliger, both eminent men of leam-

* Cassiodorus : a Roman historian, states- ing.

man, and monk who lived about 468. He was ^ Idyllist : Theocritus, a Greek poet who

raised by Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths, flourished in the third century B.C. He wrote

to the highest offices. He was among the a number of idylls (little pictures), princi-

first of literary monks. His books were much pally portraying country life,
read in the Middle Ages. See note, I. asS.

292 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

^^ Oh swain/^ returns the instructed shepherdess^

<< Bees swarm here, and would quick resent our wannth! *'

Only cold-blooded fish lack instinct here, 500

Nor gain nor guard connubiality :

But beasts, quadrupedal, mammiferous,

Do credit to their beasthood : witness him

That iClian ^ cites, the noble elephant,

(Or if not iClian, somebody as sage) 505

Who seeing, much offence beneath his nose,

His master^s friend exceed in courtesy

The due allowance to his master^s wife.

Taught them good manners and kiUed both at once,

Makmg his master and the world admire. 510

Indubitably, then, that master^s self,

Favored by circumstance, had done the same

Or else stood clear rebuked by his own beast.

AdeOj ut qui honorem spernit^ thus.

Who values his own honor not a straw, — 515

Et non recuperare curat, nor

Labors by might and main to salve its wound,

Se ukiscendoy by revenging him,

Nil differ at a belluis, is a brute,

Quinimo irrationabilior 520

Ipsismet belluiSy nay, contrariwise.

Much more irrational than brutes themselves,

Should be considered, reputetur I How ?

If a poor animal feel honor smart.

Taught by blind instinct nature plants in him, 525

Shall man, — confessed creation^s master-stroke.

Nay, intellectual glory, nay, a god,

Nay, of the nature of my Judges here, —

ShaU man prove the insensible, the block.

The blot o^ the earth he crawls on to disgrace? 530

(Come, that *s both solid and poetic!) Man

Derogate, live for the low tastes alone,

Mean creeping cares about the animal life?

Absit'^ such homage to vile flesh and blood!

(May Gigia have remembered, nothing stings 53J

Fried liver out of its monotony
Of richness, like a root of fennel, chopped
Fine with the parsley : parsley-sprigs, I said —
Was there need I should say "and fennel too"?
But no, she cannot have been so obtuse! 540

To our argument! The fennel will be chopped.)

1 Mlian : in his " De Natura Animalium/' xi. 25. * Ahiit : away I

DOMimiS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 293

From beast to man next mount we — ay, but, mind,

Still mere man, not yet Christian, — that, in time !

Not too fast, mark you ! T is on Heathen grounds

We next defend our act : then, fairly urge --- 545

If this were done of old, in a green tree,

Allowed in the Spring rawness of our kind,

What may be licensed in the Autumn dry

And ripe, the latter harvest-tide of man?

If, with his poor and primitive half-lights, 550

The Pag^n, whom our devils served tor gods,

Could stigmatize the breach of marriage-vow

As that which blood, blood only might efface, —

Absolve the husband, outraged, whose revenge

Anticipated law, plied sword himself, — 555

How with the Christian in full blaze of noon?

Shall not he rather double penalty,

Multipl)r vengeance, than, degenerate,

Let privilege be minished, droop, decay ?

Therefore set forth at large the ancient law! 560

Superabundant the examples be

To pick and choose from. The Athenian Code,

Solon's,^ the name is serviceable, — then.

The Laws of the Twelve Tables,* that fifteenth, —

" Romulus " * likewise rolls out round and large ; 565

The Julian * ; the Cornelian ^ ; Gracchus' Law • ;

So old a chime, the bells ring of themselves \

Spreti can set that going if he please,

I point you, for my part, the belfry plain,

Intent to rise from dusk, diluculum^ 570

Into the Christian day shall broaden next.

First, the fit compliment to His Holiness

Happily reigning : then sustain the point —

All that was long a^o declared as law

By the natural revelation, stands confirmed 575

By Apostle and Evangelist and Saint, —

1 The Athenian Code^ Solon*s: see note, Among these was one, Lex Julia de adul-
I. 3x9. teris, which punished adultery. The refer-

* The Laws of the Twelve Tables : this ence is probably to this. See I. 234.

was the first Roman code of laws and applied * Cornelian i laws passed under the Die-
to both Plebs and Patricians. It was drawn tator Lucius Cornelius SuUa. The law meant
up 45X B.C. by ten Decemvirs elected for the here is propably Lex Cornelia de Sic ariis^
purpose, and was engraved on twelve tables a law referring to murderers. See note, I. 333.
of brass, ' Gracchus' Law : Caius Sempronius

* Romulut : toe note, I. aao. Gracchus, the Roman Tribune, who madt

* The yulimn : laws passed during the many laws.

rtiga of Augtistus were called Leges Julia ^ Diluculum : daybreak.
JMdkiormm pubUeorum et prvoatorum.

±g4 THE R/ATG APTD TH£ BOOK.

To-wit — that Honor is man^s supreme ^pod.

Why should I baulk Saint Jerome ^ of his phrase?

Ubi honor non esty where no honor is,

Idi contemptus est\ and where contempt, 580

Ibiinjuria frequens; and where that,

The frequent injury, ibi et indignatio;

And where the indignation, Ufi quies

NuUa : and where there is no quietude.

Why, idi, there, the mind is often cast 585

Down from the heights where it proposed to dwell,

Afgns a proposito saj^e dejicitur.

And naturally the mind is so cast down.

Since harder 't is, quum difficUius sit^ ^

Iram cokibere, to coerce one's wrath, 590

Quam mir acuta facer e, than work miracles, —

So Gregory^ smiles in his First Dialogue.

Whence we infer, the ingenuous soul, the man

Who makes esteem of honor and repute.

Whenever honor and repute are touched, 595

Arrives at term of fury and despair.

Loses all guidance from the reason-check :

As in delirium or a frenzy-fit.

Nor fury nor despair he satiates, — no.

Not even if he attain the impossible, 600

Overturn the hinges of the universe

To annihilate — not whoso caused the smart

Solely, the author simply of his pain.

But the place, the memory, vituperity

O' the shame and scorn : quia, — says Solomon, 605

(The Holv Spirit speaking by his mouth

In ProverDs, the sixth chapter near the end)

— Because, the zeal and fury of a man,

Zelus et furor viri, will not spare,

Non parcety in the day of his revenge, 610

In die vindictcBy nor will acquiesce,

Nee acquiescety through a person's prayers,

Cujusdam precibus, — nee suscipiet^

Nor yet take, pro redemptione^ for

Redemption, cbna pturium, gifts of friends, 615

Mere money-payment to compound for ache.

Who recognizes not my client's case?

Whereto, as strangely consentaneous ^ here.

Adduce Saint Bernard* in the Epistle writ

* Saint Jerome : a Catholic writer of the logues with Peter the Deacon on the Lives
fifth century distinguished for his zeal against and Miracles of the Italian Saints."

the Christians. Died 420. > Consentaneous : consistent with.

* Gregory : Pope Gregory the Great (550- * Saint Bernard : The celebrated founder
640). Among other things he wrote " Dia- of the order of Bemardines (109X-ZZ53). His

630

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEU3. 295

To Robertulus, his nephew : ^ Too much grief, 6ao

Dolor quippe nimius non deliberate

Does not excogitate propriety,

Non verecundatury nor knows shame at all,

Non consulit rationemy nor consults

Reason, non dignitatis metuit 625

Damnum^ nor dreads the loss of dignity ;

Modum et ordinenty order and the mode,

Ignoraty it ignores " : why, trait for trait,

Was ever portrait limned so like the life?

(By Cavalier Maratta,^ shall I say ?

I hear he ^s first in reputation now.)

Yes, that of Samson in the Sacred Text

That ^s not so much the portrait as the man!

Samson in Gaza was the antetype

Of Guido at Rome : observe the Nazarite! 635

Blinded he was, — an easy thing to bear :

Intrepidly he took imprisonment.

Gyves, stripes and daily labor at the mill :

But when he found himself, i* the public place,

Destined to make the common people sport, 640

Disdain burned up with such an impetus

r the breast of him that, all the man one fire,

Moriatury roared he, let my souPs self die,

Anima mea, with the Philistines!

So, pulled down pillar, roof, and death and all,* 645

MuUosque plures inter fecity ay.

And many more he killed thus, moriensy

Dying, quam vivuSy than in his whole life,

Occideraty he ever killed before.

Are these things writ for no example. Sirs? 650

One instance more, and let me see who doubts!

Our Lord Himself, made all of mansuetude,*

Sealine the sum of sufferance up, received

Opprobrium, contumely and buneting

Without complaint : but when He found Himself 655

Touched in His honor never so little for once.

Then outbroke indignation pent before —

" Honor em metitn nemini dabo I " " No,

My honor I to nobody will give! "

And certainly the example so hath wrought, 660

That whosoever, at the proper worth.

Apprises worldly honor and repute,

Esteems it nobler to die honored man

works were published in Paris by Gaume * So, gutted down pillar ^ tic. \ see Judges
(1835-X840). xvi. 29.

^ Maratta : see note, III. 59. * Mansuetude : gentleness.

296 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Beneath Mannaia, than live centuries

Disgraced in the eye o^ the world. We find Saint Paul 665

No recreant to this faith delivered once :

" Far worthier were it that I died," criea hey

Expedit mihi magis tnori^ " than

That any one should make my glory void,"

Quam ut gloriam meam quis evacuitl (fjo

See, ad Corinthienses : whereupon

Saint Ambrose makes a comment with much firuit|

Doubtless my Judges long since laid to hearty

So I desist from bringing forward here.

(I canH quite recollect it.)

Have I proved 675

Satts superque^ both enough and to spare,
That Revelation old and new admits
The natural man may effervesce in ire,
O'erflood earth, o'erfroth heaven with foamy rage^
At the first puncture to his self-respect? 680

Then, Sirs, this Christian dogma, this law-bud
Full-blown now, soon to bask the absolute flower
Of Papal doctrine in our blaze of day, —
Bethink you, shall we miss one promise-streak,
One doubtful birth of dawn crepuscular,^ 685

One dew-drop comfort to humanity,
Now that the chalice teems with noonday wine?
Yea, argue Molinists who bar revenge —
Referring just to what makes out our easel
Under old dispensation, argue they, 690

The doom of the adulterous wife was death,
Stoning by Moses' law.* " Nay, stone her not,
Put her away!" next legislates our Lord;*
And last of all, " Nor yet divorce a wife! "
Ordains the Church, " she typifies ourself, 695

The Bride no fault shall cause to fall from Christ.^'
Then, as no jot or tittle of the Law
Has passed away — which who presumes to doubt?
As not one word of Christ is rendered vain —
Which, could it be though heaven and earth should pass ? 700
— Where do I find my proper punishment
For my adulterous wife, I humbly ask
Of my infallible Pope, — who now remits
Even the divorce allowed by Christ in lieu
Of lapidation Moses licensed me ? 705

' Crepuscular : glimmering. ' Put her mway, etc. i mc Matt, t« 3a.

* Stoning by Moses' law : see Deut xxii.

«4-

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGELIS. J97

The Gospel checks the Law which throws the stoney

The Church tears the divorce-bill Gospel grants :

Shall wives sin and enjoy impunity ?

What profits me the fulness of the days.

The final dispensation, I demand, 710

Unless Law, Gospel and the Church subjoin

"But who hath barred thee primitive revenge,

Which, like fire damped and dammed up, bums more fierce?

Use thou thy natural privilege of man.

Else wert thou found like those old ingrate Jews, 715

Despite the manna-banquet on the board,

A-longing after melons, cucumbers,

And such like trash of Egypt left behind! ^

(There was one melon had improved our soup :

But did not Cinoncino need the rind 720

To make a boat with ? So I seem to think.)

Law, Gospel and the Church — from these we leap

To the very last revealment, easy rule

Befitting the well-born and thorough-bred

O^ the happy day we live in, not the dark 725

O^ the early rude and acorn-eating race.^

** Behold," quoth James,^ " we bridle in a horse

And turn his body as we would thereby! "

Yea, but we change the bit to suit the growth.

And rasp our coitus jaw with a rugged spike 730

We hasten to remit our managed steed

Who wheels round at persuasion of a touch.

Civilization bows to decency.

The acknowledged use and wont : 't is manners, — mild

But yet imperative law, — which make the man. 735

Thus do we pay the proper compliment

To rank and that society of Rome,

Hath so obliged us by its interest,

Taken our client's part instinctively.

As unaware defending its own cause. 740

What dictum doth Society lay down

r the case of one who hath a faithless wife?

Wherewithal should the husband cleanse his way ?

Be patient and forgive ? Oh, language fails, —

Shnnks from depicturing his turpitude! 745

For if wronged husband raise not hue and cry,

^ The early rude and acorn-eating race : * Behold ^ quoth James: sec James
early Greek myths declare that the first men iii. 3.
were bom from oaks, and that acorns were
their principal ibod.

298 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Quod si fnaritus de adult erio non

Conquer eretuTy he*s presumed a — fob!

Presumitur Uno : so, complain he must.

But how complain ? At your tribunal, lords? 750

Far weightier challenge suits your sense, I wot!

You sit not to have gentlemen propose

Questions gentility can itself discuss.

Did not you prove that to our brother Paul?

The Abate, quum judiciaUter 755

ProsequeretuTy when he tried the law,

Guidonis causam, in Count Guidons case^

Accidit ipsiy this befeU himself,

Quod risum moverit et cachinnosy that

He moved to mirth and cachinnation, all 760

Or nearly iXL^^ere in omnibus

Etiam sensatts et cordatiSj men

Strong-sensed, sound-hearted, nay, the very Court,

Ipsismet injudicibusy I might add,

Non tamen dicam. In a cause like this, 765

So multiplied were reasons pro and con^

Delicate, intertwisted and obscure.

That Law refused loan of a finger-tip

To unravel, re-adjust the hopeless twine.

Since, half-a-dozen steps outside Law^s seat, 770

There stood a foolish trifler with a tool

A-danele to no purpose b}r his side.

Had clearly cut the embroilment in a trice.

Asserunt enim unanimiter

Doctoresy for the Doctors all assert, 775

That husbands, quod maritiy must be held

Vilesy cornuti reputantury vile.

Fronts branching forth a florid infamy.

Si propriis manibusy if with their own hands,

Non sumunty they fail straight to take revenge, 780

Vindtctaniy but expect the deed be done

By the Court — expectant illam fieri

Per judicesy qui summopere ridenty which

Gives an enormous guffaw for reply,

Et cachinnantur , For he ran away, 785

Deliquit enimyjust that he might 'scape

The censure of'^both counsellors and crowd,

C/t vulgi et doctorum evitaret

Censuraniy and lest so he superadd

To loss of honor ignominy too, 790

Et sic ne istam quoque ignominiam

Amisso honori superadderet.

My lords, my lords, the inconsiderate step

Was — we referred ourselves to Law at all!

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 299

Twit me not with ^' Law else had punbhed you! ^ 795

Each punishment of the extra-legal step.

To which the high-born preferably revert.

Is ever for some oversight, some slip

r the taking vengeance, not for vengeance* self.

A good thing, done unhandsomely, turns ill ; 800

And never yet lacked ill the law^s rebuke.

For preenant instance, let us contemplate

The lu(£ of Leonardus, — see at large

Of Sicily^s Decisions sixty-first.

This Leonard finds his wife is false : what then? 805

He makes her own son snare her, and entice

Out of the town walls to a private walk

Wherein he slays her with commodity.

They find her body half-devoured by dogs :

Leonard is tried, convicted, punished, sent 810

To labor in the galleys seven years long :

Why? For the murder? Nay, but for the mode!

Mains modus occidendiy ruled the Court,

An ugly mode of killing, nothing more!

Another fructuous sample, — see ^^De Re 815

Criminaliy'* in Matthaeus*^ divine piece.

Another husband, in no better plight,

Simulates absence, thereby tempts his wife ;

On whom he falls, out of sly ambuscade,

Backed by a brother of his, and both of them 820

Armed to the teeth with arms that law had blamed.

Nimis dolosCy overwilily,

Fuisse operatufHy did they work,

Pronounced the law : had all been £airly done

Law had not found him worthy, as she did, 825

Of four years' exile. Why cite more? Enough

Is good as a feast — (unless a birthday-feast

For one's Cinuccio) so, we finish here.

My lords, we rather need defend ourselves

Inasmuch as, for a twinkling of an eye, 830

We hesitatingly appealed to law, —

Than need deny that, on mature advice,

We blushingly bethought us, bade revenge

Back to its simple proper private way

Of decent self-dealt gentlemanly death. 835

Judges, here is the law, and here beside.

The testimony! Look to it!

Pause and breathe!
So far is only too plain ; we must watch :
Bottini will scarce hazard an attack

* Maithaut : there was a Dutch jurist of this name born at Utrecht i6'^s« ^^^ v\x<^.

300 THE RIN-G AND THE BOOM.

Here : best anticipate the fellow^s play, 840

And guard the weaker places — warily ask.

What if considerations of a sort,

Reasons of a kind, arise from out the strange

Peculiar unforeseen new circumstance

Of this our (candor owns) abnormal act, 845

To bar the right of us revenging so ?

" Impunity were otherwise your meed :

Go slay your wife and welcome," — may be urged; -»

" But why the innocent old couple slay,

Pietro, Violante ? You may do enough, 850

Not too much, not exceed the golden mean :

Neither brute-beast nor Pagan, Gentile, Jew,

Nor Christian, no nor votanst of the mode;

Is justified to push revenge so far."

No, indeed? Why, thou very sciolist! * 855

The actual wrong, Pompilia seemed to do,

Was virtual wrong done by the parents here —

Imposing her upon us as their child —

Themselves allow : then, her fault was their fiiult,

Her punishment be theirs accordingly! 860

But wait a little, sneak not off so soon!

Was this cheat solely harm to Guido, pray ?

The precious couple you call innocent, —

Why, they were felons that Law failed to clutch,

Qui ut fraudarent^ who that they might rob, 865

Legitime vocatos, folk law called.

Ad fidei commissum, true heirs to the Trust,

Partum supposuerunt^ feigned this birth,

Immemores reos factos esse, blind

To the fact that, guiltjj, they incurred thereby, 870

UUimi supplicii, hanging or what's worse.

Do you blame us that we turn Law's instruments.

Not mere self-seekers, — mind the public weal,

Nor make the private good our sole concern?

That having — shall I say — secured a thief, 875

Not simply we recover from his pouch

The stolen article our property,

But also pounce upon our neighbor's purse

We opportunely find reposing there,

And do him justice while we right ourselves ? 880

He owes us, for our part, a drubbing say,

But owes our neighbor just a dance i' the air

Under the gallows : so, we throttle him.

That neighbor 's Law, that couple are the Thie^

^ Sciolist : a smattexer.

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 301

We are the over readv to help Law — 885

Zeal of her house hatn eaten us up : for which.

Can it be, Law intends to eat up us,

Crudum Priamumy devour poor Priam raw,

(T was Jupiter^s own joke) with babes to boot,

Priamique pisinhos^ in Homeric phrase? 890

Shame! and so ends my period prettily.

But even, — prove the p>air not culpable,
Free as unborn babe from connivance at,
Participation in, their daughter's £ault :

Ours the mistake. Is that a rare event? 895

Non semely it is anything but rare,
In contingentia factiy that by chance,
Impunes evaserunt^ go scot-free,
Quiy such well-meaning people as ourselves,
Justo dolore moti^ who aggrieved 900

With cause, apposuerunt manus, lay
Rough hands, in innocentesy on wrong heads.
Cite we an illustrative case in point :
Mulier Smirnea qucBdamy good my lords,
A gentlewoman lived in Smyrna once, 905

Virum etfilium ex eo conceptumy who
Both husband and her son begot by him
Killed, inter fecer at y exquOy because,
Virfilium suum perdideraty her spouse
Had been beforehand with her, killed her son, 910

Matrimonii primiy of a previous bed.
Deinde accusata, then accused,
Apud DolabellafHy before him that sat
Proconsul, nee duabus ccedibus

Contaminatam liber arey nor 915

To liberate a woman doubly-dyed
With murder, voluity made he up his mind,
Nee condemnarey nor to doom to death,
Justo dohre impulsam^ one impelled

By just grief; sed remisity but sent her up 920

Ad Areopagunty^ to the Hill of Mars,
Sapientissimorum judicum
Ccetunty to that assembly of the sage
Paralleled only by my judges here ;

Ubiy cognito de causa^ where, the cause 925

Well weighed, responsum esty they gave reply,

^ Crudunt Priamnm . . . Priamique translation reads: "Let Priam bleed . . .

ftstnnos : a line from a translation of Homer Bleed all his sons " (" Iliad/' iv. 55).
by Attius Labeo. The translation as a whole * Ad Artopagum : the Areopagus was a

is lost, but this line (" Iliad," ir. 35) is pre* hill in Athens near the Acropolis, where th«

SCnred by a scholiast on P^rsius, Pope's Supreme Court held its session^.

302 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Ut ipsa et accusatory that both sides

O^ the suit, redirentj should come back again,

Post centum annos, after a hundred years,

For judgment ; et sic, by which sage decree, 930

Duplici parricidio rea, one

Convicted of a double parricide,

Quamvis etiam innocenteniy though in truth

Out of the pair, one innocent at least

She, occidisset, plainly had put to death, 935

Undequaque, yet she altogether ^scaped,

Evasit impunis. See the case at length

In Valerius, fittingly styled Maximus^

That eighth book of his Memorable Facts.

Nor Cyriacus ^ cites beside the mark : 940

Similtter uxor quce mandaveraty

Just so, a lady who had taken care,

Homicidium viriy that her lord be killed,

Ex denegaiione debiti,

For denegation of a certain debt, 945

MatrimonialiSy he was loth to pay,

Fuit pecuniaria mulcta, was

Amerced in a pecuniary mulct,

Punita, et adpcenaniy and to pains,

Temporalem, for a certain space of time, 950

In monasterioy in a convent.

(Ay,

In monasterio ! He mismanages

In with the ablative, the accusative!

I had hoped to have hitched the villain into verse

For a gift, this very day, a complete list 955

O' the prepositions each with proper case,

Telling a story, long was in my head.

** What prepositions take the accusative ?

Ad to or at — who saw the cat? — down to

Oby for, because of, keep her claws off! " Tush ! 960

Law in a man takes the whole liberty :

The muse is fettered : just as Ovid found!*)

And now, sea widens and the coast is clear.

What of the dubious act you bade excuse }

Surely things broaden, brighten, till at length 965

Remains — so far from act that needs defence —

* Valerius Maximus : a Latin writer of zona, in Syria (died 1817). He wrote homi-

the first century who made a collection of his- lies, canons, and epistles,
torical anecdotes called "Books of Memo- ^ As Ovid found : Ovid scribbled verse in

rable Deeds and Utterances.** the margin of his paper, as a youth, when he

' Cyriacus : monk of the convent of Bi- ought to have been framing legal orations.

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS, 303

Apology to make for act delayed

One minute, let alone eight mortal months

Of hesitation ! " Why procrastinate ? "

(Out with it my Bottinius, ease thyself!) 970

" Right, promptly done, is twice right : right delayed

Turns wrong. We grant you should have killed your wife.

But killed o^ the moment, at the meeting her

In company with the priestt: then did the tongue

O' the Brazen Head ^ give license, * Time is now ! ' 975

Wait to make mind up ? * Time is past ^ it peals.

Friend, you are competent to mastery

O^ the passions that confessedly explain

An outbreak : vou allow an interval.

And then break out as if timers clock still clanged. 980

You have forfeited your chance, and flat you fiul

Into the commonplace category

Of men bound to go softly all their days.

Obeying Law."

Now, which way make response ?
What was the answer Guido gave, himself? 985

— That so to argue came of ignorance
How honor bears a wound. " For, wound," said he,
^^ My body, and the smart soon mends and ends :
While, wound my soul where honor sits and rules,
Longer the sufferance, stronger grows the pain, 990

Being ex incontinentia fresh as first.^^
But try another tack, urge common sense
By way of contrast : say — Too true, my lords!
We did demur, awhile did hesitate :

Since husband sure should let a scruple speak 995

Ere he slay wife, — for his own safety, lords!
Carpers abound in this misjudging world :
Moreover, there 's a nicety in law
That seems to justify them should they carp.
Suppose the source of injury a son, — 1000

Father may slay such son yet run no risk :
Why graced with such a privilege ? Because
A father so incensed with his own child.
Or must have reason, or believe he has :
Quia semper^ seeing that in such event, 1005

Presumitur, the law is bound suppose,
Quod capiat pater ^ that the sire must take,
Bonum consilium profilio^

* Brazen Head : it was believed in the of the first half hour the head said, " Time is " ;

Middle Ages that a brazen head could be at the end of the second, " Time was " ; at the

made which would speak. Roger Bacon is end of the third, " Time 's past." Then it fell

said to have accomplished this feat. When down with a crash and was shivered in pieces,
finished, a man was set to watch. At the end

304 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

The best course as to what befits his boy,

Through instinct, ex instinctu, of mere love^ loio

AmoriSj and, paterni, fatherhood ;

Quam confidentiam^ which confidence,

Non habet, law declines to enteftain,

De viro^ of the husband : where finds he

An instinct that compels him love his wife? 1015

Rather is he presumably her foe.

So, let him ponder long in this bad world

Ere do the simplest act of justice.

But
Again — and here we brush Bottini^s breast —
Object you, " See the danger of delay! 1020

Suppose a man murdered my friend last month :
Had I come up and killed him for his pains
In rage, I had done ri^ht, allows the law :
I meet him now and kill him in cold bloody
I do wrong, equally allows the law : 1025

Wherein do actions differ, yours and mine?"
In plenitudine intellect us es ?
Hast thy wits, Fisc? To take such slayer^s life,
Returns it life to thy slain friend at all?
Had he stolen ring instead of stabbing friend, — 1030

To-day, to-morrow or next century.
Meeting the thief, thy ring upon his thumb.
Thou justifiably hadst wrung it thence :
So, couldst thou wrench thy friend^s life back again,
Though prisoned in the bosom of his foe. 1035

Why, law would look complacent on thv wrath.
Our case is, that the thing we lost, we found :
The honor, we were robbed of eight months since^
Being recoverable at any day

By death of the delinquent. Go thy ways! 1040

Ere thou hast learned law, will be much to do,
As said the gaby while he shod the goose.
Nay, if you urge me, interval was none !
From the inn to the villa — blank or else a bar
Of adverse and contrarious incident 1045

Solid between us and our just revenge!
What with the priest who flourishes his blade.
The wife who like a fury flings at us,
The crowd — and then the capture, the appeal
To Rome, the journey there, the jaunting thence 1050

To shelter at the House of Convertites,
The visits to the Villa, and so forth.
Where was one minute left us all this while
To put in execution that revenge

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 305

We planned o^ the instant ? — as it were, plumped down 1055

O^ the spot, some eight months since, which round sound egg,

Rome, more propitious than our nest, should hatch !

Object not, <* You reached Rome on Christmas-eve,

And, despite liberty to act at once.

Waited a whole and indecorous week! ^* 1060

Hath so the Molinism, the canker, lords.

Eaten to our bone? Is no religion left?

No care for aught held holy by the Church ?

What, would you have us skip and miss those Feasts

O' the Natal Time, must we go prosecute 1065

Secular business on a sacred day?

Should not the merest charity expect.

Setting our poor concerns aside for once.

We hurried to the song matutinal

r the Sistine,^ and pressed forward for the Mass 1070

The Cardinal that ^s Camerlengo ^ chaunts.

Then rushed on to the blessing of the Hat

And Rapier, which the Pope sends to what prince

Has done most detriment to the Infidel —

And thereby whetted courage if \ were blunt? 1075

Meantime, allow we kept the house a week.

Suppose not we were idle in our mew !

Picture us raging here and raving there —

" * Money ? ' I need none. * Fnends ? ' The word is null.

Restore the white was on that shield of mine 1080

Borne at " . . . wherever might be shield to bear.

'^ I see my grandsire, he who fought so well

At ^ . . . here find out and put in time and place,

Or else invent the fight his grandsire fought :

«I see this! I see that!"

(See nothing else, 1085

Or I shall scarce see Iambus fry in an hour!
What to the uncle, as I bid advance
The smoking dish? " Fry suits a tender tooth!
Behoves we care a little for our kin —

You, Sir, — who care so much for cousinship 1090

As come to your poor loving nephew's feast! "
He has the reversion of a long lease yet —
Land to bequeath! He loves lamb's fry, I know!)

Here fall to be considered those same six

Qualities ; what Bottini needs must call 1095

So many aggravations of our crime,

^ Sistine : the chapel of the Papal palace in Pope, who ranks highest among the cardi-
Rome, celebrated for its wonderful frescoes. nals, and presides during a vacancy in the
* Camerlengo : the chamberlain of the Holy See.

X

3o6 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Parasite-growth upon mere murder^s back.

We summarily might dispose of such

By some off-hand and jaunty fling, some skit —

^^ So, since there ^s proved no crime to aggravate, iioo

A fico for your aggravations, Fisc! "

No, — handle mischief rather, — play with spells

Were meant to raise a spirit, and lau^h the while

We show that did he rise we stand his match!

Therefore, first aggravation : we made up — 1 105

Over and above our simple murderous selves —

A regular assemblage of armed men,

Coadunatio armatorunty — ay.

Unluckily it was the very juage

That sits in judgment on our cause to-day 1 1 10

Who passed the law as Governor of Rome :

"Four men armed," — though for lawful purpose, mark!

Much more for an acknowledged crime, — " shall die."

We five were armed to the teeth, meant murder too ?

Why, that 's the very point that saves us, Fisc! 11 15

Let me instruct you. Crime nor done nor meant, —

You punish still who arm and congregate :

For wherefore use bad means to a good end?

Crime being meant not done, — you punish still

The means to crime, whereon you haply pounce, 1120

Though accident have baulked them of^effect.

But crime not only compassed but complete.

Meant and done too? Why, since you have the end,

Be that your sole concern, nor mind those means

No longer to the purpose ! Murdered we? 1125

( — Which, that our luck was in the present case.

Quod contigisse in prcBsenti casu,

Is palpable, manibus paipatum est — )

Make murder out against us, nothing else!

Of many crimes committed with a view 1130

To one main crime, Law overlooks the less,

Intent upon the large. Suppose a man

Having in view commission of a theft,

Climbs the town-wall : 't is for the theft he hangs.

In case he stands convicted of such theft : 1 135

Law remits whipping, due to who clomb wall

Through bravery or wantonness alone,

Just to dislodge a daw's nest, plant a flag.

So I interpret you the manly mind

Of him about to judge both you and me, — 1 140

Our Governor, who, being no Fisc, my Fisc,

Cannot have blundered on ineptitude!

Next aggravation, — that the arms themselves

Were specially of such forbidden sort

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGELIS. 307

Through shape or length or breadth, as, prompt, Law plucks 1145

From single hand of solitary man,

Making him pay the carriage with his life :

Delatio armarumy arms against the rule.

Contra farmam constitutionis, of

Pope Alexander's blessed memory. 11 50

Such are the poignards with the double prone,

Horn-like, when times make bold the antlered buck,

Each prong of brittle glass — wherewith to stab

And break off short and so let fragment stick

Fast in the flesh to baffle surgery : 1 155

Such being the Genoese blade with hooked edge

That did us service at the villa here.

Sedparcat mihi tarn eximius vir,

But, — let so rare a personage forgive, —

Fisc, thy objection is a foppery! 11 60

Thv charge runs that we killed three innocents :

Killed, dost see? Then, if killed, what matter how?

By stick or stone, by sword or dagger, tool

Long or tool short, round or trian^lar —

Poor slain folk find small comfort m the choice! 1 165

Means to an end, means to an end, my Fisc!

Nature cries out, " Take the first arms you find! "

Furor ministrat arma : ^ where 's a stone ?

C/nde mi lapidem^ where darts for me?

Unde sagittasf^ But subdue the bard 1 170

And rationalize a little. Eight months since.

Had we, or had we not, incurred your blame

For letting 'scape unpunished this bad pair?

I think 1 proved that in last paragraph!

Why did we so? Because our courage failed. 1 175

Wherefore ? Through lack of arms to fight the foe :

We had no arms or merely lawful ones.

An unimportant sword and blunderbuss.

Against a foe, pollent in potency.

The amasiusy and our vixen of a wife. 1180

Well then, how culpably do we gird loin

And once more undertake the high emprise.

Unless we load ourselves this second time

With handsome superfluity of arms,

Since better is " too much " than " not enough," 11 85

And "//«j non vitiaty'' too much does no harm,

Except in mathematics, sages say.

Gather instruction from the parable!

At first we are advised — " A lad hath here

^ Furor minutrat arma : Virgil, * Unde mi lapidem . . . und9 tagiiUu i
**^neid/' i. 150. Horace, " Satires" ii. 7, ii^«

3d8 the ring and THE BOOK.

Seven barley loaves and two small fishes : what 1 190

Is that among so many?^^ Aptly asked :
But put that question twice and, quite as apt,
The answer is ^^ Fragments, twelve baskets ^! ^

And, while we speak of superabundance, fling

We word by the way to fools who cast their flout 1 195

On Guido — " Punishment were pardoned him,

But here the punishment exceeds offence :

He might be just, but he was cruel too! "

Why, grant there seems a kind of cruelty

In downright stabbing people he could maim, 1200

(If so you stigmatize the stem and strict)

Still, Guido meant no cruelty — may plead

Transgression of his mandate, over-zeal

O' the part of his companions : all he craved

Was, they should fray the faces of the folk, 1205

Merely disfigure, nowise make them die.

Solummodo fassus est^ he owns no more,

Dedisse mandatumy than that he desired,

Ad sfrisiandutfty dicam, that they hack

And hew, i^ the customary phrase, his wife, 1210

Uxorem taniumj and no harm beside.

If his instructions then be misconceived.

Nay, disobeyed, impute you blame to him?

Cite me no Panicollus to the point,

As adverse! Oh, I quite expect his case — 1215

How certain noble youths of Sicily

Having good reason to mistrust their wives,

Killed them and were absolved in consequence ;

While others who had gone beyond the need

By mutilation of each paramour — 1220

As Galba in the Horatian satire^ grieved

— These were condemned to the galleys, cast for guilt

Exceeding simple murder of a wife.

But why ? Because of ugliness, and not

Cruelty, in the said revenge, I trow! 1225

Ex causa abscissionis partium ;

Qui nempe idfacietUes reputantur

NaturcB inimici^ man revolts

Against them as the natural enemy.

Pray, grant to one who meant to slit the nose 1230

And slash the cheek and slur the mouth, at most,

A somewhat more humane award than these

Obtained, these natural enemies of man!

Objectum funditus corruit^ flat you fall.

My Fisc! I waste no kick on you, but pass. 1235

* Tht Horatian satire : *' ^«Jaxt" v. a» \^.

DOMimJS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 309

Third aggravation : that our act was done —

Not in the public street, where safety lies,

Not in the bye-place, caution may avoid,

Wood, cavern, desert, spots contrived for crime, —

But in the very house, home, nook and nest, 1240

O^ the victims, murdered in their dwelling-place,

In domo ac habitatione propria,,

Where all presumably is peace and joy.

The spider, crime, pronounce we twice a pest

When, creeping; from congenial cottage, she 1245

Taketh hold with her hands, to horriw

His household more, i^ the palace of the king.

All three were housed and safe and confident.

Moreover, the permission that our wife

Should have at length domum pro carcercy 1250

Her own abode in place of prison — whv,

We ourselves granted, by our other self

And proxy Paolo : did we make such grant.

Meaning a lure? — elude the vigilance

O^ the jailer, lead her to commodious death, 1255

While we ostensibly relented ?

Ay,
Just so did we, nor otherwise, my Fisc!
Is vengeance lawful ? We demand our right.
But find it will be questioned or refused
By jailer, turnkey, hangdog, — what know we? 1260

Pray, how is it we should conduct ourselves?
To gain our private right — break public peace.
Do you bid us ? — trouble order with our broils ?
Endanger . . . shall 1 shrink to own . . . ourselves? —
Who want no broken head nor bloody nose 1265

(While busied slitting noses, breaking heads)
From the first tipstaff that may interfere!
Nam quicquid sit, for howsoever it be,
An de consensu nosiro, if with leave

Or not, a monasterio, from the nuns, 1270

Educta essety she had been led forth,
Potuimus id dissimulare^ we
May well have granted leave in pure pretence,
Ut aditum habere^ that thereby

An entry we might compass, a free move 1275

Potuissemusy to her easy death.
Ad earn occidendam. Privacy
O' the hearth, and sanctitude of home, say you ?
Shall we give man^s abode more privilege
Than God's? — for in the churches where He dwells 1280

In quibus assistit Regum Rexy by means
Of His essence, per essetUianiy ail the same,

310 THE RING AI^D THE BOOK.

Et nikilotninusj therein, in eis^

Exjusta via delinquensy whoso dares

To take a liberty on ground enough, 1285

Is pardoned, excusatur : that ^s our case —

Delinquent through befitting cause. You hold.

To punish a false wife in her own house

Is graver than, what happens every day,

To hale a debtor from his hiding-place 1290

In church protected by the Sacrament ?

To this conclusion have I brought my Fisc?

Foxes have holes, and fowls o^ the air their nests ;

Praise you the impiety that follows, Fisc ?

Shall false wife yet have where to lay her head? 1295

" Contra Fiscum definitum est I " He 's done!

" Surge et scribe^'^ make a note of it!

— If I may dally with Aquinas' word.

Or in the death-throe does he mutter still,

Fourth aggravation, that we changed our garb, 1300

And rusticized ourselves with uncouth hat,

Rough vest and goatskin wrappage ; murdered thus

Mutatione vestitinty in disguise.

Whereby mere murder got complexed with wile,

Turned homicidium ex insidiis f Fisc, 1 305

How often must I round thee in the ears —

All means are lawful to a lawful end ?

Concede he had the right to kill his wife :

The Count indulged in a travesty ; why?

De ilia ut vindictam sumeret, 13 10

That on her he might lawful vengeance take,

Commodius, with more ease, et tutius^

And safelier: wants he warrant for the step?

Read to thy profit how the Apostle once

For ease and safety, when Damascus raged, 13 15

Was let down in a basket by the wall

To 'scape the malice of the governor

(Another sort of Governor boasts Rome !)

— Many are of opinion, — covered close.

Concealed with — what except that very cloak 1320

He left behind at Troas afterward ?

I shall not add a syllable : Molinists may!

Well, have we more to manage? Ay, indeed!

Fifth aggravation, that our wife reposed

Sub potestate judicis, beneath 1325

Protection of the judge, — her house was styled

A prison, and his power became its guard

In lieu of wall and gate and bolt and bar.

This is a tough point, shrewd, redoubtable :

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. %\\

Because we have to supplicate that judge 1330

Shall overlook wrong done the judgment-seat.

NoWy J might suffer my own nose be pulled,

As man : but then as father ... if the Fisc

Touched one hair of my boy who held my hand

In confidence he could not come to harm 1335

Crossing the Corso, at my own desire.

Going to see those bodies in the church —

What would you sav to that, Don H j^acinth ?

This is the sole ana single knotty point :

For, bid Tommati blink his interest, 1340

You laud his magnanimity the while :

But baulk Tommati's office, — he talks big !

•* My predecessors in the place, — those sons

O' the prophets that may hope succeed me here, —

Shall I diminish their prerogative? 1345

Count Guido Franceschini's honor! — well,

Has the Governor of Rome none?"

You perceive,
The cards are all against us. Make a push.
Kick over table, as shrewd gamesters do!
We, do you say, encroach upon the rights, 1350

Deny the omnipotence o' the Judge forsooth?
We, who have only been from first to last
Intending that his purpose should prevail,
Nay more, at times, anticipating it
At risk of his rebuke?

But wait awhile ! 1355

Cannot we lump this with the sixth and last
Of the aggravations — that the Majesty
O' the Sovereign here received a wound? to-wit,
LcBsa Majestasy since our violence

Was out of envy to the course of law, 1360

In odium litis f We cut short thereby
Three pending suits, promoted by ourselves
r the main, — which worsens crime, accedit ad
Exasperationem criminis !

Yes, here the eruptive wrath with full effect! 1365

How, did not indignation chain my tongue.

Could I repel this last, worst charge of all!

(There is a porcupine to barbacue ;

Gi^ can jug a rabbit well enough.

With sour-sweet sauce and pine-pips ; but, good Lord, 1370

Suppose the devil instigate the wench

To stew, not roast him? Stew my porcupine?

312 THE RmC AMD THE BOOK.

If 3he does, I know where his quills shall stick!

Come, I must go myself and see to things :

I cannot stay much longer stewing here.) 1375

Our stomach ... I mean, our soul is stirred within.

And we want words. We wounded Majesty?

Fall under such a censure, we? — who yearned

So much that Majesty dispel the cloud

And shine on us with healing on her wings, 1380

That we prayed Pope Majestas* very self

To anticipate a little the tard^ paclc.

Bell us forth deep the authoritative bay

Should start the beagles into sudden yelp

Unisonous, — and, Gospel leading Law, 1385

Grant there assemble in our own behoof

A Congregation, a particular Court,

A few picked friends of quality and place,

To hear the several matters in dispute, —

Causes big, little and indifferent, 1390

Bred of our marriage like a mushroom-growth, —

All at once (can one brush off such too soon?)

And so with laudable despatch decide

Whether we, in the main (to sink detail)

Were one the Pope should hold fast or let go. 1395

"What, take the credit from the Law?" you ask?

Indeed, we did! Law ducks to Gospel here :

Why should Law gain the glory and pronounce

A judgment shall immortalize the Pope?

Yes : our self-abnegating policy 1400

Was Joab's ^ — we would rouse our David's sloth,

Bid him encamp against a city, sack

A place whereto ourselves had long laid siege,

Lest, taking it at last, it take our name

Nor be styled InnocentinopolisJ^ 1405

But no! The modesty was in alarm,

The temperance refused to interfere.

Returned us our petition with the word

^^Adjudices suos,'''' " Leave him to his Judge!"

As who should say "Why trouble my repose? 1410

Why consult Peter in a simple case,

Peter's wife's sister in her fever-fit

Might solve as readily as the Apostle's self?

Are my Tribunals posed by aught so plain ?

Hath not my Court a conscience? It is of age, 141 5

Ask it!"

We do ask, — but, inspire reply

^as yoab's : see 2 Samuel xii. 26-29. ' Innocentt'nopolts : the city of Innocent

DOMimis HYAcrirrHUs de archangelis. 313

To the Court thou bidst me ask, as I have asked —

Oh thou, who vigilantly dost attend

To even the few, the ineffectual words

Which rise from this our low and mundane sphere 1420

Up to thy region out of smoke and noise,

Seeking corroboration from thy nod

Who art all justice — which means mercy too,

In a low noisy smoky world like ours

Where Adam^s sin made peccable his seed! 1425

We venerate the father of the flock,

Whose last faint sands of life, the frittered gold,

Fall noiselesslv, yet all too fast, o^ the cone

And tapering heap of those collected years :

Never have these been hurried in their flow, 1430

Though justice fain would jo^ reluctant arm,

In eagerness to take the forfeiture

Of guilty life : much less shall mercy sue

In vain that thou let innocence survive,

Precipitate no minim of the mass 1435

O' the all-so-precious moments of thy life,

By pushing Guido into death and doom !

(Our Cardinal engages to go read

The Pope my speech, and point its beauties out.

They say, the Pope has one half-hour, in twelve, 1440

Of something like a moderate return

Of the intellectuals, — never much to lose!

If I adroitly plant this passage there,

The Fisc will find himself forestalled, I think.

Though he stand, beat till the old ear-drum break! 1445

— Ah, boy of my own bowels, Hyacinth,

Wilt ever catch the knack, requite the pains

Of poor papa, become proficient too

r the how and why and when, the time to laugh,

The time to weep, the time, again, to pray, 1450

And all the times prescribed by Holy Writ?

Well, well, we fethers can but care, but cast

Our bread upon the waters!)

In a word.
These secondary charges go to ground.
Since secondary, and superfluous, — motes 1455

Quite from the main point : we did all and some.
Little and much, adjunct and principal.
Causa honoris. Is there such a cause
As the sake of honor? By that sole test try
Our action, nor demand if more or less, 1460

Because of the action^s mode, we merit bUm^

314 THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Or maybe deserve praise ! The Court decides.

Is the end lawful ? It allows the means :

What we may do, we may with safety do,

And what means " safety " we ourselves must judge. 1465

Put case a person wrongs me past dispute :

If my le^timate vengeance be a blow,

Mistrustmg my bare arm can deal that blow,

I claim co-operation of a stick ;

Doubtful if stick be tough, I crave a sword ; 1470

Diffident of ability in fence,

I fee a friend, a swordsman to assist :

Take one — he may be coward, fool or knave :

Why not take fifty ? — and if these exceed

r the due degree of drubbing, whom accuse 1475

But the first author of the aforesaid wrong

Who put poor me to such a world of pains?

Surgery would have just excised a wart ;

The patient made such pother, struggled so

That the sharp instrument sliced nose and all. 1480

Taunt us not that our friends performed for pay !

Ourselves had toiled for simple honoris sake :

But country clowns want dirt they comprehend,

The piece of gold ! Our reasons, which suffice

Ourselves, be ours alone ; our piece of gold 1485

Be, to the rustic, reason he approves!

We must translate our motives like our speech.

Into the lower phrase that suits the sense

O' the limitedly apprehensive. Let

Each level have its language ! Heaven speaks first 1490

To the angel, then the angel tames the word

Down to the ear of Tobit : ^ he, in turn,

Diminishes the message to his dog,

And finally that dog finds how the flea

(Which else, importunate, might check his speed) 1495

Shall learn its hunger must have holiday,

By application of his tongue or paw :

So many varied sorts of language here,

Each following each with pace to match the step,

Haud passibus cequis !

Talking of which flea, 1500

Reminds me I must put in special word
For the poor humble following, — the four friends,
Stcartt, our assassins caught and caged.
Ourselves are safe in your approval now :
Yet must we care for our companions, plead 1505

^ Tfiiit : AfKjCTyphat Book of Tobit, t. and vi.

DOMINUS HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS. 315

The cause o^ the poor, the friends (of old-world £suth)

Who lie in tribulation for our sake.

Pauperum Procurator is my style :

I stand forth as the poor man^s advocate :

And when we treat of what concerns the poor, 15 10

Et cum agatur de pauperibus^

In bondage, career atis^ for their sake,

In eorum causis^ natural piety,

Pietas, ever ought to win the day,

Triumphare debet ^ quia ipsi sunt, 1 5 1 5

Because those very paupers constitute,

Thesaurus Christi, all the wealth of Christ.

Nevertheless I shall not hold you long

With multiplicity of proofs, nor bum

Candle at noon-tide, clarify the clear. 1520

There beams a case refulgent from our books —

Castrensis, Butringarius,^ ever)rwhere

I find it bum to dissipate the dark.

^ is this : a husband had a friend, which friend

Seemed to him over-friendly with his wife 1 5 25

In thought and purpose, — I pretend no more.

To justify suspicion or dispel.

He bids his wife make show of giving heed,

Semblance of sympathy — propose, in fine,

A secret meeting in a private place. 1 530

The friend, enticed thus, finds an ambuscade,

To-wit, the husband posted with a pack

Of other frfends, who fall upon the first

And beat his love and life out both at once.

These friends were brought to question for their help ; 1535

Law mled " The husband being in the right.

Who helped him in the right can scarce be wrong " —

opinio, an opinion every way,

MuUum tenenda cordi, heart should hold!

When the inferiors follow as befits 1540

The lead o' the principal, they change their name,

And, non dicuntur, are no longer caBed

His mandatories, mandatorii.

But helpmates, sed auxiliatores ; since

To that degree does honoris sake lend aid, 1545

Adeo honoris causa est efficax.

That not alone, non solum, does it pour

Itself out, se diffundat, on mere friends.

We bring to do our bidding of this sort,

In mandatorios simplices, but sucks 1550

1 Castrensis t Buiringarius : Paulus de should be spelt), jurists of the sixteenth oen-
Ctttro and Jacobus Butrigarius (as the name tury.

3i6 THE RIMG AI^D THE BOOJC.

Along with it in wide and generous whirl,

Sed etiam assassinii qualitaie

Qualificatosj people qualified •

By the quality of assassination's self.

Dare I make use of such neologism, 1555

Ut utar verbo.

Haste we to conclude.
Of the other points that favor, leave some few
For Spreti ; such as the delinquents' youth.
One of them falls short, by some months, of age
Fit to be managed by the gallows ; two 1560

May plead exemption from our law's award.
Being foreigners, subjects of the Granduke —
I spare that bone to Spreti, and reserve
Myself the juicier breast of argument —
Flinging the breast-blade i' the face o' the Fisc, 1565

Who furnished me the tid-bit : he must needs
Play off his privilege and rack the clowns, —
And they, at instance of the rack, confess
All four unanimously made resolve, —

The night o' the murder, in brief minute snatched 1570

Behind the back of Guido as he fled, —
That, since he had not kept his promise, paid
The money for the murder on the spot.
So, reaching home again, might please ignore
The pact or pay them in improper coin, — 1575

They one and all resolved, these hopeful friends,
'T were best inaugurate the morrow's light,
Nature recruited with her due repose,
B^ killing Guido as he lay asleep
Pillowed on wallet which contained their fee. 1580

I thank the Fisc for knowledge of this feet:

What fact could hope to make more manifest

Their rectitude, Guido's integrity?

For who fails recognize the touching truth

That these poor rustics bore no envy, hate, 1585

Malice nor yet uncharitableness

Against the people they had put to death?

In them, did such an act reward itself?

AH done was to deserve the simple pay,

Obtain the bread clowns earn by sweat of brow, 1590

And missing which, they missed of everything —

Hence claimed pay, even at expense of life

To their own lord, so little warped (admire!)

By prepossession, such the absolute

Instinct of equity in rustic souls! 1595

\

DOMim/S HYACINTHUS DE ARCHANGEUS, 317

Whereas our Count, the cultivated mind,

He, wholly rapt in his serene regard

Of honor, he contemplating the sun

Who hardly marks if taper blink below, —

He, dreammg of no argument for death 1600

Except a vengeance worthy noble hearts, —

Dared not so desecrate the deed, forsooth,

Vulgarize vengeance, as defray its cost

By money dug from out the dirty earth.

Irritant mere, in Ovid^s phrase, to ill. 1605

What though he lured base hinds by lucre^s hope, —

The only motive they could masticate,

Milk for babes, not strong meat which men require ?

The deed done, those coarse hands were soiled enough.

He spared them the pollution of the pay. 1610

So much for the allegeme